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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683872">Not What It Looks Like (Until it is)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackofAllFandoms/pseuds/MsJackofAllFandoms'>MsJackofAllFandoms</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Brian is oblivious, Fluff, Freddie Mercury Is a Good Friend, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Roger is also oblivious, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:33:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsJackofAllFandoms/pseuds/MsJackofAllFandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Five Times It Wasn’t What It Looked LIke, and The One Time It Was. </p><p>This is set in a vague timeline that references real life events as the story goes on, but Deaky’s the only one married. Nobody else’s girlfriends/boyfriends/wives/husbands exist in this fic. Sorry.<br/>(Chapter 6 coming soon. Having some plot hole issues)</p><p>Rated for language and sexual connotations.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May/Roger Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. September 1970</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is Not the 5+1 I started 6 months ago. I started this one 3 weeks ago, and finished it today between working on my other WIPs.<br/>Beta read by the wonderful @ThePrincessed, even though she is not in this fandom. If anyone in this fandom fancies being my in-fandom beta, please let me know. </p><p>As usual, any mistakes or concrit please do let me know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brian looked up from where he was watching Roger write into his notebook and, grimacing, looked over forlornly at the pile of paper strewn across the floor. Then the small grandfather clock in the corner caught his eye. “Oh god, is that the time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger glanced up at the clock too, and then looked at his wrist watch to confirm. “Yeah,” he replied, frowning, “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian waved his apology off, “No that’s alright, I wanted to get it finished too. At least the roads will be empty I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian rested the guitar on the couch before clambouring up from his cross legged position on the floor. He stretched, which was much needed after god knows how long he’d been sat in that position, and then dusted off his trousers. Roger did much the same, but rested his acoustic on the armchair instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could stay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er….” Brian looked down at the couch and frowned, “Thank you for the offer, Rog, but I remember the last time I slept on this couch and I ended up feeling like an old man-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger cut him off, “I’m not offering you the couch. How you even managed it last time I’ve no idea. No, just kip in with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said it so nonchalantly, like it was the norm. Like it was something they regularly did. Like it was no big deal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, I don’t- Would we even both fit?” He reached out to his guitar, to fiddle with it, to not look so bloody awkward. Brian figured he was failing at that one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger scoffed, “Course we would. I’ve got a double and you’re a bean pole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian couldn’t exactly refute it, because he was quite skinny. It was something his mother always commented on whenever he went home. “Well. I suppose. It would be better than driving back to mine, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger gently hit him on the arm, “Exactly.” he said, and then headed out of the living room with his guitar. “Come on then. You can leave your guitar on my stand there. Want something to change into?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain took him up on the offer on the stand to place the old lady for the night, but turned down the offer of clothes. That was something strictly for performances only, and even then only to really shut Roger up about his fashion sense. “No it’s okay, I’ll just sleep in this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><em>'This'</em> was his long stripey jumper and soft corduroy trousers. He’d fallen asleep in them plenty of times to know they were comfortable and warm enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger still gave him a close look as he lead him into his bedroom that Brian couldn’t interpret. “You sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Brian nodded, watching as Roger placed his guitar up against the side of the wardrobe. It was a small room, but Brian had been in it enough times by this point to appreciate what Roger had done with it to maximise the space available. Namely pile everything upwards in alcoves the sparse furniture created. “As long as you don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger shook his head and picked out his pyjama bottoms and Brian turned away to face the wall as he changed into them. It gave him the chance to admire Roger’s poster board littered with old posters from gigs he’d been to see. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course not. Not like you’ve been trawling through mud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True.” Brain called over his shoulder “Thanks for the offer though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God you’re so formal sometimes Bri.” Roger clapped Brian on the back, letting him know he’d changed, “I’ll be just a few minutes. You know where the bathroom is. We’ve not got any spare toothbrushes- I know. Shut up. But you can use the toothpaste on your finger.” and then he left the room for a few minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian did as he suggested and when he returned to the room, Roger was just placing two glasses of water on the bedside table and carrying a blanket under his arm. “Here, extra blanket for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see to that, I’ll be back in a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian wasn’t quite sure how to see to the blanket, because he wasn’t sure which side of the bed, if any, Roger slept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, Brian thought, who wouldn’t just star fish in the middle if they had a bed so big? But he knew he only really had minutes before Roger came back, and he didn’t want to keep Roger awake any later than they had to be, so he chose the side nearest the window on the assumption Roger liked to reach for things on his bedside table, and surely if he liked to be nearer the window, the bedside table would be on that side, not the side by the door with the bed up against the wall. And following that logic, he pulled the duvet back and laid out the lumpy blue blanket that was evidently handmade by someone. It went surprisingly well with his own knitted jumper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain stood back and admired his handiwork, but then waited for Roger’s return to do anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger returned to his bedroom with a smile, then gestured to the bed. “Which way you wanna do this, top and tail or just normal? I’m not arsed either way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian blinked. Not another decision! “I, er, which do you prefer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger shrugged, “Really, either way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but which would you </span>
  <em>
    <span>prefer</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger laughed and pinched his nose. “Fuck’s sakes,” he said, exasperatedly but in good humour, “Just get in, like normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian neared the bed again and hesitated before lifting his leg to climb in, “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mind.” Brian replied, and besides a small voice in the back of his head asking, ‘<em>what would Dad think?’</em>, he found it was true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally we agree on something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Brian got in first and shuffled over to the side by the window, up against the wall, followed by Roger who, after turning off the bedroom light, was rather less graceful in getting in, but did the honour of pulling the duvet up over them both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to be up at- shit,” Roger started, “in three ad a half hours. What time do you need to be up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian thought about it in his head before answering. “About the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. My alarm’s set. Goodnight, Bri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain returned his goodnight quietly and let the warmth and weight of the covers ease him into sleep. </span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Morning came far too soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain groaned as the alarm pulled him out of his sleep, and he’d slept surprisingly well despite the unusual surroundings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re already dressed, might as well stay in bed a few more minutes, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian was not going to argue with that, so he fell into a light doze as Roger pottered around him, left the room and came back a short while later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whenever you’re ready, Bri, follow through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian aimed for an ‘Okay, Rog’ he thinks he managed to convey the sentiment with a groan mixed with a yawn. He was not a morning person, no matter how many years he’d been going to morning lectures by now. Reluctantly he left his cocoon and followed Roger.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, kettles on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Fred.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie did a double take when he saw someone was following Roger through into the kitchen. “Brian!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian smiled and gave a little wave, “Hi, morning Fred.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie looked between Roger and Brian and nodded slowly, “I didn’t know you were still here, darling… you weren’t on the couch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian suddenly felt a cold wash over him and realised how rude it must have been to stay over without asking Freddie if it was okay first. “Ah. No. I, er-” he looked over to Roger for help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sat down heavily at the small dining table they had, onto the chair opposite Freddie. “He shared in with me Fred, you remember how he was after last time he slept on the couch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie nodded, “Yes… it is a rather small couch. Did you, er, sleep well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie looked at Brian in a way that made Brian feel even more wary. “Good… Good…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worried he was going to overstay his welcome, he took the odd atmosphere in the kitchen as his sign to leave. </span>
  <span>“Well, I can’t stay much longer. Have to go by mine before heading in to uni. See you both Friday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Roger said, putting his cup down and looking up, “Come on i’ll walk you out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian tried to wave him off as he turned to go into the living room and get his guitar. “Oh there’s no need.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes see you friday, Bri, darling.” Freddie shouted through, but sounded rather distracted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain lost the battle and Roger followed him to the door, and opened it for him as he put his clogs on. “You got everything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brain patted his pockets just to double check, “Keys, wallet, watch, the old lady. Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger smiled, “Okay. See you Friday.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They patted each other on the arm as Brian passed the threshold, and then he shouted another goodbye to Freddie before Roger closed the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Roger was very aware that something about being in the kitchen had spooked Brian away, but couldn’t quite figure out what. And then he saw Freddie’s face as he returned. It looked almost gleeful. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, dear.” Freddie said, smirking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger decided to drop it. Freddie could bring up whatever was amusing him on his own time. “Leaving for the stall the usual time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie glanced over at the small kitchen clock on the wall before replying. “Of course. Now, why don’t you give me the details.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger looked at Freddie for a second before replying. “What details?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night. What have I even missed that led to Brian… staying over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you want to know about the song? Well we didn’t finish it until nearly half 2 in the morning. Just wait until you hear it Fred…” He said, sitting down, and then with the time they had to spare, filled Freddie in on the process him and Brian went through to perfect the song they’d been working on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger was too busy talking to pay much attention to odd looks Freddie gave him at the odd point in the recounting, and then it really was time to leave for the stall. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. March, 1971</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sharing a bed again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>On Saturday just gone, my hard drive failed and on Monday, my laptop went in for repair. Luckily this was written on Google docs, but it means the editing was done on my phone, and that's how I'm updating too. First world problems, I know, but it wasn't easy. </p><p>This chapter has not been betaread and I'm worried the stress of the situation has effected the characterisation. As always, I am open for corrections and constructive criticisms.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brian reached his limit of splitting syllables, threw his pen down to the table and rubbed his eyes, groaning. "We’re going nowhere fast with this, Rog; I think it’s time we call it a night."</p><p>Roger was sitting opposite him at the little dining table and shook his head emphatically, shuffling sheets of paper in his hands. "No no no no! It’s this bit," he said, scratching a line through lyrics on one sheet and circling notes with chord progressions on top to another, "it just needs…" and Brian watched and waited as Roger's face froze in crumpled up expression whilst trying to think about what exactly it is their song needed. </p><p>Brian, taking pity on him, leant over to pat his hand as he removed the sheet of paper from him, the latest in a long line of victims of Roger's heavy handed penmanship. "If you knew what it needed, Rog, we’d be done already." He placed the sheet on the pile to Roger's right, the one they'd been calling the <em> Potential Though Maybe Not For This Song </em> pile and, to really drive the point home, put his pen on top of the pile. "Come on, we’ve both had a long day, and we've been at this for hours, our brains have had enough."</p><p>Brian watched as Roger groaned too, eventually looking at the piles either side of him. Suddenly he threw his pen down onto the table. It landed with a shallow clatter on Brian's half of the table then finished off with a little spin. Brian will forever put it down to how tired he is that he thought at that moment that even in throwing pens, Roger had to do it with style.</p><p>He shook himself out of that ridiculousness and put his mind to the more useful task of planning the rest stops for the fifteen minute drive home back to his flat in the event he becomes too tired to drive safely. </p><p>"Ah fuck it, you’re right." Roger finally conceded, and Brian was a good sport not to ask him to repeat those last two words. Instead he watched in sympathy as Roger put his head in his hands and stewed for a few seconds, until he was taken by a yawn and lifted his head up. He pointed at Brian, sternly, as if it was his fault his body suddenly realised how tired he was. "I hate you." It was said entirely without any heat. </p><p>Brian would never admit it was kind of adorable. In a grumpy hedgehog sort of way. </p><p>Brian smiled at him, in a way he knew came across as smug and patronizing, which he usually saved for Roger in a studio setting, after Freddie has agreed with him over something. "I know you do."</p><p>Roger groaned again as he pushed his chair back from the table and, after standing up, pushed it back in underneath. Brian did the same, though more quietly.</p><p>"You wanna share in with me again, save driving home this late?"</p><p>Brian looked at him, surprised at this second invitation given how awkward it had turned in the kitchen with Freddie last time. "You don’t mind?" </p><p>Roger glanced over to him, slight confusion obvious on his face as he collected the cups and mugs on greet table, and then shook his head, "Course not!"</p><p>"Are you really sure?"</p><p>Roger quietly dumped the cups in the sink and turned to face Brian, a sleepy smile on his face,  "Brian, would I offer if I really minded?" </p><p>Brian considered this before answering, "Well, no…"</p><p>"Exactly." </p><p>"But, er, Freddie might."</p><p>Roger, despite being obviously exhausted, managed to give Brian a bewildered look at the same time as barking out a disbelieving laugh.  "What? Why would Freddie care?"</p><p>Brian resisted the urge to shuffle us feet like an awkward child. "Last time," Brian started, "He seemed upset that he didn't know about me staying."</p><p>Roger scoffed. "He wasn't." Upon seeing no change in Brian's visibly worried face, "Trust me, he wasn't. If he got upset every time someone stayed here without him being told about it first, well… let's just say he'd be upset a lot, Bri. Plus it's you!" Roger waved an arm at him as he learnt against the sink with one hip cocker out. "You know he'd rather have you stay then risk getting in a car crash from falling asleep at the wheel! You're his Brimi after all."  </p><p>It was a compelling argument. enough to settle Brian's worries for now… or maybe he was just too tired to worry anymore. </p><p>"Come on," Roger said, nudging Brian with his elbow on his way out of the kitchen. "You're falling asleep standing up. You want something to sleep in?"</p><p>Brian wasn't quite sure he'd reached that stage but took the hint. He was staying the night, decision made, out of his hands, conversation over. And he was grateful for it. Then he looked down at the clothes he was wearing, considering Roger's question. Knowing further hesitation could get well piss Roger off, but not being able to just take up the offer without being sure, he asked, "Would that be okay?" He punctuated his question by gesturing to his jeans, "I’d stay in what I’m wearing like last time but denim don’t make good pyjamas." </p><p>Roger huffed a laugh out in agreement as he entered his bedroom. "No, I know. 'Learnt that the hard way myself." and with familial ease, he started going through his over-crammed wardrobe, searching for something suitable for Brian. He paused for a sudden yawn, setting off Brian yawning as well. They glared at each other, but Roger broke first with a laugh and sent back to his two.</p><p>"At least it’s Sunday tomorrow." He called over his shoulder.</p><p>Brian continued watching as Roger looked further into his wardrobe, trying to ease the guilt at putting his friend out, but then Roger pulled out some items from the very back. The Christmas rejects, Freddie had jokingly called it during a previous adventure of clothing Brian for a gig. </p><p>"Yes." Brian replied, "You don’t have to be up at the stall tomorrow, do you?" His question was out before he could really think it through. <em> Christ I am tired </em>, he thought.</p><p>"No fucking chance." Roger said, standing back up straight holding the items up, so he could look at them properly. "Sunday? No. Why?"</p><p>"Ahhh… no it’s nothing"</p><p>Roger looked at him scrutinisingly, "What? ….Brian, what is it?"</p><p>Brian broke under the interrogation. He couldn't think of a convincing lie that would prevent him from putting his friend out even further than he already had. "I need a lie in." It came out more tired and desperate, and whiny if he was being honest, then he'd intended to be.</p><p>Roger laughed, almost in relief. As if Brian's worries were grossly out of proportion with the situation, and Brian's not sure he'll ever get used to his friend's day going nature. "Is that all? Sleep as long as you like, mate. I don’t care." </p><p>Still, Brian was compelled to doublecheck. "Are you-</p><p>"Yes." Roger said quickly, cutting him off. "<em> Yes," </em>he repeated slowly, "I'm sure. Here." He thrusted a mismatched set of pyjamas at Brian, allowing no further arguement. Once again, decision made, out of his hands, conversation over. "You get changed, I'll get you the extra blanket."</p><p>"Thank you, Roger." Brian said, his voice soft out of gratitude for his friend's no-nonesense caring ways. He then left the room to use the bathroom, followed by brushing his teeth - using toothpaste on his finger like the last time - and finally getting changed. </p><p> </p><p>When Brian came back into Roger's room, it was to find that Roger had got them a glass of water each and had placed the lumpy blue blanket on the bed, under the duvet just like Brian had done so last time. He had also changed into his own bed clothes, which consisted of plain grey pyjama bottoms and a grotty old t-shirt with holes in the right shoulder that he'd picked up somewhere along the way.</p><p>However, the gratitude for Roger had dissolved somewhat, which became obvious as the other turned to smile at him. Although the thin grey pyjama top was fine, if a bit short in the sleeves but that was the case for a lot of Brian's own clothes, the soft cotton tartan pyjama bottoms, on the other hand, ran about six inches short at the calf. </p><p>Roger's face froze half way between a laugh at a grimace. Unbeknownst to Brian, there was an apology on the tip of Roger's tongue. He'd really thought they were longer than what they obviously were. Then Roger saw Brian steel himself, not quite glaring at him as he fended off potential ribbing. Roger wouldn't have dared.</p><p>Brian tried not to hunch in on himself and looked Roger dead in the eye. "One word out of you and i’m taking up the whole bed."</p><p>Clearly delighted at the turn to assertiveness and humour that they didn't see enough of, Roger laughed him off. "I’d just sleep right on top of you. I can sleep anywhere, you know that."</p><p>"Oh god," Brian grimaced, as he gracefully got into bed and shuffled over to the side by the wall and window. "I know. I wish I had the same ability." </p><p>Roger refrained from reminding him of the time they found him asleep on the stairs of a pub where they were staying after performing there, on the split landing no less and instead announced that he'd take his turn in the bathroom.</p><p>Brian stayed awake, though not with ease, waiting for Roger's return. The little voice in the back of his mind had tried to pop up, snidely ask him what his dad would think, but he was simply too tired to care. Roger had offered him a warm and comfortable place to sleep, he didn't have to, and that surely mattered more than his parents' idea of propriety. He was also sure his mum would concede it was the preferable option than, as Roger had said, being in a car crash just because he fell asleep at the wheel.</p><p>He nodded to himself. Decision made, conversation - though fictional it may have been- over. The little voice had disappeared. </p><p>Roger came back in, closed the door behind himself and smiled at Brian as he turned the light off. Brian had pulled up his side of the duvet over himself, over the blanket, but had the left a wide corner on Roger's side, making it easy for the other man to get in the bed without losing too much warmth.</p><p>"Thanks again, Rog." Brian said, as Roger pulled the duvet up and shuffled down on the Bed. Brian followed suit and curled up, facing the window like last time.</p><p>"No problem, Bri. Sleep well." Roger murmured in reply.</p><p>"Hmm, sleep well Rog."</p><p>They were both pulled very quickly into a nice deep, comfortable sleep.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>And then were suddenly pulled out of it not six hours later.</p><p> </p><p>The door squeaked sharply against the frame as it burst open."Roger, Darling, I’ve just had the b- AHH BRIAN!?"</p><p>Roger became aware of three things at once: he was awake, Freddie was screeching by the doorway like Bette Davis' tortured soul had possessed him, and there was a weight on his chest. And then suddenly, awoken by the same screech, Brian's head popped up, his curly hair blurry in Roger's peripheral vision, and the weight was suddenly gone.</p><p>"What?" Roger asked, sitting up and turning to face Freddie. "Freddie- What." <em>What's with the screeching? W</em><em>hat did you want?</em> W<em>hat the fuck?</em> were all questions on the tip of his tongue. His mind went a slightly different but no less important route. "What have I said about barging in-" mind finally waking up to the situation, he looked at the clock on his bedside table and whined. "Christ it’s not even ten, Freddie!"</p><p>Brian half groaned, half whimpered over on Roger's right, and both Roger and Freddie turned to see that he was laying on his front with the blue blanket half over his head. Roger assumed that was to block out the light, because it sure as hell would do absolutely nothing against the noise. The blanket was thick, but not <em>that</em> thick.</p><p>"Brian." Freddie said, sounding honestly distraught. "Brian, darling, i’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting- I’ll be out in the kitchen- I-" and with that, Freddie left the room and pulled the door closed after himself with a bang. </p><p>Roger was left sitting there, baffled. What the fuck was that about?</p><p>Brian pushed the blanket off his face and turned half towards Roger. "So much for that lie in."</p><p>Roger sat up more so his back was against the headboard properly. He looked down at Brian, who was grimacing with his eyes closed and curls all smushed between his face and the pillow.</p><p>"Sorry about him. Can’t tell you how many times he’s done that." Roger sighed and looked away, then looked at the door. "I need to get a fucking lock, honestly. One of these days he’s going walk in and see something he won’t like."</p><p>Brian snorted, then rolled fully on to his back. He pushed the blanket down so, like the duvet, it was just below his chest, then lifted his right arm to cover his eyes. He groaned again. "I should he just gone back to mine."</p><p>Roger sighed and resigned himself to his plans for the day being completely changed. "You go back to sleep. I’ll go see what Mother Mercury was crowing about this time." He got out of bed, feet thudding heavily against the carpeted floor, and stretched. Without so much as a look back at Brian, for fear the sight of the nice warm bed would be too much to ignore, he left the room, closing the door gently and quietly behind him.</p><p> </p><p>He stormed into the kitchen where Freddie was stood at the counter where the kettle stood, fretting with a cup of tea in his hands. His footsteps were loud in his own ears as he stomped to a few feet in front of the front man.</p><p>"This better be about a bloody good song, Freddie." He said, trying to keep his voice low but feeling "I’m talking number one material!"</p><p>Freddie at least had the sensibility to look apologetic. "I’m so sorry, darling, I had no idea you had company."</p><p>Roger scoffed at Freddie's wording. "Brian’s not exactly company but-" the big kitchen clock caught his eye. Freddie had bought it as a joke about Roger's poor sure sight but he couldn't deny it came in handy. "Fuck you, we didn’t even get to sleep until three!"</p><p>Freddie glanced over his shoulder at the clock and winced. "I am so sorry, dear. Is Brian awfully upset?"</p><p>"Is <em>Brian </em>upset??" Roger shouting, finally cracking. He didn't know why Freddie was just concerned about Brian, but it did prove the point he tried to make to the guitarist the night before. "I’m upset! It’s not even <em> ten </em>, Freddie!" He repeated.</p><p>Freddie nodded, but the regret was visibly diminishing. "Yes, well, you’re used to it and poor Brian-"</p><p>Roger glared at Freddie, and the singer stopped talking and instead hid his face behind his teacup as he took a drink from it.  "I don’t think so, no," he said, taking pity on the singer. "He’s just tired. Some idiot scared him out of a deep sleep and he was already knackered." </p><p>Freddie looked like he was holding back a comment, but swallowed it down with the rest of his tea "I’ll apologise to him wholeheartedly when he’s up properly, darling. I never intended to- Well I did but not like that. If I’d have known you were both- darling, why didn’t you say? Did you think I’d mind?"</p><p>Roger could and had survived busy days with little sleep, and hung over to boot but the last week and especially the previous day obviously took a nice toll on him then he'd realised, because he was very much lost in the conversation now. And usually him and Freddie some the same language. "Mind? You already knew we were working on the bridge."</p><p>"The bridge?" Freddie asked, as if he was confused.  </p><p>"I <em> Knowwww </em>, alright?" Roger shouted, losing it. "You don’t have to rub it in! Sometimes these things take time, ya know? I just can’t get the right… I don’t know. But I will figure it out." </p><p>Freddie looked at him, bewildered, for just a few seconds. Then his whole demeanor changed. "Right. Of course these things take time, darling. Do you think every masterpiece of mine has been a ten minute headrush? No." </p><p>"Great. That’s always great to know, Freddie." He said flatly, then jumped up and down. "Tell me. why you. woke. me. up!!"</p><p>"Yes!" Freddie put his cup down on the counter and clapped. "My song! I have this piece on the piano and I need your lovely falsetto to complement it, darling."</p><p>Roger sighed. "Let me get a glass of water. I’ve not even gone for a smoke yet, Fred."</p><p>Freddie waved him off. "Yes yes, dear. Complain later, music now."</p><p>Roger shook his head. "Fuck’s sake."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. May, 1971</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Roger almost got into a drunken fight, and Brian and Roger share a bed again. Not beta-read.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've had a hard time polishing this one up in amidst technological failure. Let me know if you spot any mistakes, I welcome feed back. I hope this one is okay.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Brian opened the door for both of them and waved Roger through, a sten frown on his face.  “You first.” He knows he sounds stern, and tries to reign in his anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A blurry eyed tipsy Roger just nodded at him, “Hmm, okay.” And walked gracefully over the threshold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian closed the door firmly behind them and then shouted through to the kitchen, “You in, Freddie?”. There was no response, so Brian left the latches and locks off.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must be still out.” Roger toed off his shoes in the hall way, leaning heavily on the wall. He could almost be mistaken for sober, if it wasn’t for his hand on the wall guiding him as he walked in the kitchen, and messily searching for the light switch on the wall.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… “ Brian took his own shoes off and neatly placed both his and Roger’s on the mat by the front door, that Freddie had put there for that very purpose. Now the drummer was standing in better light, the images of how he could be looking right now hit Brian vividly. Battered, bruised, bloody, cartered off in an ambulance to the hospital, maybe handcuffed. The guitarist shook his head in frustration and followed the other man into the kitchen and then got two cups out and filled both of them with water. Then he filled the kettle up and put it on the hob. Whilst that was doing, he passed one of the cups over to Roger, who was staring mulishly at the floor. It broke Brian’s patience.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Oh Roger, one of these days, you’re going to put yourself in a fight and not be able to walk away, and that’s no good for anyone!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger took the cup and gripped it tightly. His eyes flashed as they made eye contact for a second before he spoke to somewhere over Brian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Bri, but he was a homophobic twat and- and we weren’t even doing anything!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know-”<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even gay- Fuckin-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Brian said, cutting off the rant. He spoke gently but firmly, “I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you tried to do what you did, Rog, but… Look, you can’t punch the homophobia out of people, especially not when you’re drunk and you shouldn’t put yourself-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger scoffed, “I fight the best when I’m drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.” Brain sighed and pinched his nose, “Look, you go get changed, I’ll make you some tea. If it does nothing else, then it’ll at least sober you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sighed in response and put his half drunk cup of water on the table non-too-gently. “Okay.” He got up and walked out of the kitchen, then stopped and turned around. “I am sorry about the grass verge thing, you know.” The words slurred into each other, but Brian still made them out, used to understanding Roger at a much more drunken point than he was there and then. “That wasn’t deliberate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian nodded, “I know, Rog. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Roger continued his journey into his room, Brian surveyed his own clothing under the good light of the kitchen. From his knees down, his trousers were muddy and sodden and all his right sleeve was similar. He hadn’t thought too much about the dampness and the cold, but now Roger had mentioned it, that’s all he could think about. Not to mention how he’d clean it all off. But, Brian had to remind himself, it could have been so much worse. It could have been Roger’s blood if he hadn’t have managed to pull Roger away from the homophobic drunk sitting on the wall of the pub.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another horrible thought hit him as he realised the proximity of the grass verge he’d dragged Roger by, was to the pub. He gave it a wary sniff and was glad to smell only grass and mud and nothing more dubious. He still might just buy new clothes and have Roger pay him back for them. Brian found himself sighing again. “Oh Roger.” He finished his own cup of water and threw the remaining half of Roger’s down the sink, then set about making a cup each for<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not too long after he’d placed the cup of tea on the table in place of the cup and pulled a packet of digestive biscuits out of the cupboard, Roger came stumbling back out in to the kitchen in just his boxers. It was such an unexpectant sight, it took Brian aback somewhat. “Well.” he said, not quite used to seeing so much skin outside of the venue’s dressing rooms.  “I suppose you did half the job. Here’s your tea. And some biscuits, there, that should help to sober you up a bit as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger smiled at him brightly, still on the drunker side of tipsy, but no less heartfelt. “Thanks Bri.” He sat down at the table, took a biscuit out of the packet and dunked it, rather unceremoniously. Then Brian watched in amusement as he chomped it and nodded his head whilst chewing, as if listening to a very fast beat.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drunken Roger had his quirks, and Brian sometimes wished he had more video film at his disposal than camera film so that he could record them for prosperity. Or blackmail. Depending on Roger’s actions...<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another biscuit went in to the cup and then into Roger’s mouth. Brian shook himself out of staring and sipped at his own tea.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, Bri,” Roger started, looking up from the table to look at him, “Don’t tell Freddie about tonight, yeah? He gets upset about these things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian grimaced, “You know I don’t like keeping secrets from Freddie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger nodded, and seemed to be sobering up. “I know. But, for me, Brian? Please? Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger had this face he pulled when he wanted to guilt Freddie or Deaky into doing things for him, like making a shared B&amp;B room not so shared for the night, and they were both unable to resist it, which usually meant he got what he wanted and Brian got dragged along for the ride. On his days to open the stall, when he didn’t want to go in because he’d had too much of a late night. Or driving John’s new car the day after John got it. Brian could resist that look, because it was too pouty, a joke and, if people ever did put their foot down, he’s sure Roger would back off.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this wasn’t that face he was pulling. This was honest pleading, where Roger was genuinely asking him to keep something between them, because it was really important. And Brian felt all resolve crumble. He understood where Roger was coming from, and although he really did hate keeping things from Freddie, he found himself nodding. “Alright. Alright, I won’t tell Freddie.” Brian went over to the table and took one of the biscuits, “But if somehow he finds out, on your head be it.” And he punctuated that sentence, rather dramatically if he said so himself, by taking a very big bite of the digestive.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger smiled, not his drunken grin, his softer smile he usually saved for gifts. “Thank you, Brian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian hummed and continued eating his biscuit, back to standing in the kitchen, leaning on the edge of the sink. The kitchen quietened to just the sound of Roger munching noisily on the biscuits. </span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian was down to the last dregs of his tea and he dare not look at the clock, even though it was big enough even Roger could see it without his glasses on, that Brian’s not meant to know about. “I’ll have to be off soon. If i’m honest I’m not looking forward to the fifteen minute drive home in damp muddy trousers. On my car seats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger winced, as if he’d just realised Brian’s been stood there for a good twenty minutes with the remnants of the grass verge still on him. “Sorry about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian nodded. “I know you are. It’s alright. At least it was just sodden from the downpour earlier and not cat’s piss. Or worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger started to say something and was taken by surprise by a sudden yawn. “Oh. Pardon Me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian laughed. “Bedtime for you.” He placed his cup in the sink.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger hummed and stood up, and wobbled, despite appearing more sober than what he was when they first got in. He looked over at Brian and just stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay? Need a hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Are you still drunk?”<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger shook his head, “Not much anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian looked closer at him. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And about-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger nodded, “Yes. Come on, Brian, you don’t really want to drive home in soggy trousers and a muddy blouse, do you? In your car, which means you’ll have to clean your car...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian cut him off with a wave of his hand, but found he couldn’t quite look the drummer in the eyes. “Alright I’ll stay, but,” he looked down at his muddy trousers again, “I’ll need to borrow some pyjama bottoms again.”<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger waved him off, and took his own cup to the sink. “Won’t need them, it’s like a summer's night tonight.” He yawned again, this time covering his mouth with his hands, “Just wash your legs and arms just in case there was fertiliser down and it’ll be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian’s face heated up. “I don’t- Er. It’s not exactly proper, Roger” He winced slightly as he felt like they were his father’s words coming out of his own mouth. .<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger laughed and looked straight at him. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian stood there and thought it through, and again, felt his resolve breaking. It was, after all, a practical solution to a problem that, whilst Roger might not have intended, was something he caused. “I mean…. Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll wash these up, you go ahead, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” It all felt a bit rushed, but then he shook his head, knowing he was being silly. Roger was tired, and he’d already said to the drummer it was time to go to bed, so of course he was going to go to bed. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went in to the bathroom and sorted out his legs and arms, washed his hands thoroughly, then used the toilet, followed by washing his hands again, extra thoroughly just in case there was something on his clothes he would rather not ingest. Then, like was becoming routine, he used his finger to brush his teeth.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came out of the bathroom, feeling a bit odd wearing just his boxers, and was met by Roger going in to his bedroom with two glasses of water. Brian felt like he needed to do something to be helpful, because those doubts of being in the way were starting to creep up on him again, especially after the horrible words the drunken homophobe had spewed at them earlier. A more insecure man might have avoided sharing a bed with another man for a while after that, but obviously not Roger. How Roger’s kindness and generosity new no bounds amazed him. “Where do you keep that blue blanket? I can get it, save you the bother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t need that either, Bri.” He placed the cups down on the bedside table and Brian followed him in the room, “Honestly, my bedroom’s like a greenhouse when it's late spring or summer, even Freddie can’t stand it. You’re lucky i’m wearing underpants to be honest.” Brian looked away and felt his face heat up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger laughed and pulled back the duvet for them. Brian got in first. “Okay. Fine.” He then lied down and faced the wall, curling a bit in on himself, and then he felt Roger get in after him. He looked over his shoulder and was met with the sight of Roger’s bare shoulder, “Hey Rog, if you’re hungover in the morning, do not forget i’m here and throw up on </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger laughed. “Never.” He sounded sincere. Brian turned back to face the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night Brian.”<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night Rog, and thanks again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger reached back and patted him on the side. Brian tensed up momentarily, not expecting it, then Roger retracted his hand and Brian could breathe again.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>TIredness and the warm room over took him and he fell asleep.</span><br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A screeching, not Freddie this time, suddenly woke them both up. Roger scrabbled out of bed, leaving poor Brian to wrestle the duvet off himself, his long limbs somehow making a mess of it in the confusion of waking from a deep sleep mixed with the sudden loud noise.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT the FUCK????” Roger shouted, looking around the room and then at Brian.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that your fire alarm?” Brian said, still trying to untangle his long legs from the duvet.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!? wait here a second-” He held a hand up to Brian and walked out of his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can-” He heard Brian say, but didn’t hear the end as he went in to the hall way were the screeching was even louder. If it wasn’t the fire alarm, it was something worse.  He went quickly to Freddie’s door and hammered on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Freddie, FREDDIE. You home?” He just opened the door when he heard Freddie shouting from the front door. He looked around the corner, and yes, there was the man in question.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not just us, it’s the whole building, darling,” he said, oddly calm considering the situation, “It’s on fire somewhere dear,” he continued, “We have to leave. Now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger nodded and turned away, “Okay give me a second-” he headed towards his own bedroom and Freddie’s rushed steps came up behind him and grabbed at his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatt? No we have to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger just got to his door and called Brian’s name but before he could say both syllables, the door opened and Brian came out of the room wearing one of his own Tshirts, along with his boxers, which Roger couldn’t remember taking but evidently had, if the cheesy rocket on the corner was anything to go by.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“BRIAN!?” Freddie squawked in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian smiled awkwardly, “Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie looked at him closely and Roger was puzzled, wasn’t he in a rush to get them both out of the flat a second ago?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, at this time of night…. In your smalls, dear.” Freddie finished, pointedly looking down at Brian’s dark blue boxers unprecedentally on show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian grimaced and then looked in the direction of the bathroom, “Well... I wasn’t expecting to be here, at this time of night, in my smalls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger had had enough of this. “Is this building on fire, or what? We can discuss Brian’s smalls outside, let’s go.” And with that, like herding sheep, he ushered them both out and, after picking up Freddie’s key on the fuse cupboard on his way out, locked the flat’s door behind them.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they went out the building’s own door, with the flat once being a classic victorian house that had been converted into flats, Roger was hit with a blast of cold air. It was then he realised he didn’t even know what time it was, he hadn’t had a chance to look at any of the clocks on his way out. He figured it must have been at least four, the sky was clear and lightning to dawn. He looked at Brian, wondering if time was something he could figure out, using the position of the moon and stars without the use of a sundial...<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked up the pavement to where the other residents were milling around. Freddie tapped him on the shoulder and nodded to a woman in a pale pink nighty and curlers in her hair, “There’s Mrs Stimpson, I’ll go ask her what’s happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait. You've got pockets," Roger said, "You take the key."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie took it but said he couldn't promise not to lose it. Roger wasn't too worried, it was an ongoing joke. Roger then led Brian a bit away from the crowd, to a bend in the curb where a post box stood so they were behind the milling crowd and somewhat protected from the chill.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s Mrs Stimpson?” Brain asked, leaning down to murmur quietly in Roger’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger leant closer in to murmur back. “Nosy old bugger of a neighbour. Knows everyone’s business. Don’t know how, she lives on the top floor. She used to be married to the landlord’s brother in law.” A slight draft hit him and he started shivering. “Christ it’s cold. How’d that happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian smirked and rolled his eyes, “It’s like a summer's night Bri, we won’t need pyjama bottoms Bri, I normally sleep naked Brian.” he said in a poor imitation of Roger’s high voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Piss off!” Roger said, but he was laughing. “I don’t sound like that! And anyway, I’d had a few drinks more than you, so you’re the idiot for following my advice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now you tell me.” Brian sighed as if he was the most put upon human being on the planet, and then looked at Roger and started laughing.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sirens that signalled the arrival of the fire brigade took the shine off their joking around. It reminded Roger that this could actually be serious. He stood there, watching the shiny fire engine park up and 6 men in fire protective gear all clamber out of the vehicle.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Freddie sauntered up from his chat with Mrs Stimpson. “About time they turned up.” He said in lieu of a greeing. “Luckily it sounds like its just a small grill fire, in flat 4b.” He pointed to the middle floor, “How Mrs Stimpson knows these things from her top floor flat, I don’t know, but there we are darlings. We all have to wait until the fire brigade put the fire out, do a thorough safety check we reset the fire alarm.” Freddie sighed as if he was personally insulted by the twists and turns of the events of the nights, and then looked at them closely, as they both stood there huddled into themselves with arms across their chests. “Are you terribly cold, dears? Mrs Stimpson said she’ll ask the firemen for some blankets for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger tried to brush it off with bravado, “Nah, i’m fine.” and then his body betrayed him with a shudder of the cold. Freddie laughed, which Roger didn't blame him for. He'd have laughed too if had been the other way around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian considered his answer more carefully, given the way he tilted his head back and forth for a few seconds. “I am a bit cold but I think I can wait until we go back in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie glanced back at the firemen, then at Mrs Stimpson and snorted. He gestured with his thumb behind him “You might not have a choice in the matter, she’s staring down the one with the yellow jacket quite aggressively. She must have a thing for firemen, I don’t see the appeal myself, but these things are all relative.” Freddie seemed to be addressing that directly to Roger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there was some hidden meaning in it that he didn’t want Brian to know, Roger was too tired and too cold to give a shit. “What are you looking at me like that for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie shrugged, far too nonchalantly for Roger’s liking. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger, still too cold and tired for this shit, tutted at him. “Fuck off. Anyway, when did you get back in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About half an hour ago.” Freddie replied airily, “Surprised you didn’t hear me, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger shook his head, “Me? Nah, I was dead to the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian nodded, “It’s a good job you didn’t drink more, really. And me. I can’t imagine we would have slept through that alarm, but we might have done, and if it had been worse…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger patted Brian comfortingly on the back. He knew how his mind could throw worst case scenarios at him at times like these, but also knew arguing on him abotu the chances of those happening just turn into a spiralling argument over probably and possibility. Not that he could have said something if he’d have wanted to, because Freddie continued talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmmm, “ He said thoughtfully, “You must have both been very tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before either could reply, a rather burly fireman in the customary black jacket, with bushy sideburns that would have been obscured by a helmet if he'd have been wearing one, came over with a giant, disgustingly pink blanket folded up in his hands. Now, Roger liked the colour pink. He made no secret of liking the colour pink. But this, to Roger, wasn’t a nice shade of pink. This was mottled pink, making it look dusty, it looked like it should smell of an old damp house. It just looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heard you lads are just out here in your skivvies and are in need of a blanket.” The fireman said, in a thick South end accent. Despite his tough look, he spoke brightly rather than mockingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian looked at the crowd nearer to the door of the flat. He hugged himself a bit closer but shuck his head. "Oh, no. Thank you but we don’t want to be a bother."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger was shivering on and off and did feel sorry for the other residents who must have been just as cold as them, but they were all in dressing gowns. Light was quickly breaking through the sky and despite it forecast for another warm spring morning, it was getting chillier. "Speak for yourself…" he said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fireman held the blanket out to Roger. "The lady in the hair curlers was quite insistent. Something about how you gave her a discount at your stall for a persian scarf?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger blinked. "Oh. Oh well. Okay." He accepted the blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You gave her a fucking what, darling?" Freddie asked, but the fireman continued over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And she said he passed some tins down for her off high shelves in the tesco and that a strong wind would blow you over."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh."<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger snorted. Old ladies were always saying that about Brian. And he could never go shopping in Tesco's without someone asking him to pass something down to them.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fireman gestured to the blanket now in Roger's hands. "Only got one spare, I’m afraid, and the rest are all fire blankets. You boys will have to share but this is a big blanket so…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger looked up to Brian, but Brian shook his head "Really, I’m fine. At least I’m wearing a Tshirt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sighed and turned back to the fireman. "By which he means, thank you very much. We’ll be right here when you want it back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Fireman nodded, "Okay, might be a while…" looked at all three of them with a smile and then walked off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What a nice fellow." Freddie said, mildly surprised.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger went about unfolding the blanket, trying not to be too visibly disgusted by the colour and looked at Brian, consideringly. "Oi, Freddie, don’t just stand there, help drape this over Brian."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait," said Brian, "What are you doing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sharing." Roger held on to one corner with the blanket hanging down landscape and passed the other corner to Freddie, who rolled his eyes but did indulge him, likely because it was for Brian. "I’ll hold on to this end. You stand the other side of Brian" He said, and Freddie followed the order, and even made sure the top end of the blanket was going over Brian's shoulders. Roger held out his empty hand. "Now pass me that end back." Freddie did and the effect was that now both Roger and Brian were wrapped up in the disgusting, but soft and warm, dusty pink blanket. Which smelt fine. "There we go." He grinned triumphantly at an adorably baffled Brian who was looking down at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was fine without but, thank you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. The height difference would be a problem for talking whilst standing this closely, Roger realised a little bit too late, but he was nothing if not a quick thinker. He nodded to the kerb of the prevent. "Come on, sit down on the pavement with me and tuck your legs in."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Erm. Okay."<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian was a bit awkward, getting his long giraffe legs to comply properly without dislodging Roger's grip on the blanket and he ignored Freddie's amused smirk as they stumbled a bit, but they did manage it, so he grinned smugly right back at Freddie. The blanket was even so thick Roger couldn't even feel the cold of the pavement slab, which was great because that would put a spanner in Roger's plan to keep them both warm and comfortable somewhat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," Freddie said, looking down at them "Yes that looks very cosy, darling…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don’t be jealous just because you’ve not got a blanket."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian huffed out a laugh but didn't add anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I’ve got clothes on. Unlike the pair of you, darling."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> wearing a t-shirt." Brian pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hm. But no trousers." Freddie said, somewhat suspicious.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger didn't have to see Brian's face to know he was blushing at the reminder, he could feel Brian huddle in on himself, and he could now just hope Brian kept things vague whilst explaining to Freddie the series of events to the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They got wet." Brian eventually mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well… that was vague, but now Freddie looked like his day was made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did they? How did they get wet, dear?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger felt Brian stiffen in panic and resisted the urge to look at him, and answer for him. It would have been even worse than the truth if they both gave different answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was Roger’s fault."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger squawked indignantly and turned to glare at Brian.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie laughed, "Yes, now that I can believe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger sighed and decided to take over before it could get any worse. "There was wet grass and i fell into it, alright? What is this, a bloody viva?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You </span>
  <em>
    <span>fell</span>
  </em>
  <span> into </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet grass</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and what, you pulled poor Brian down with you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Exactly that actually, Freddie." Brian replied, and the thing is, Roger thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>'it was pathetically true.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"… The problem is, I can actually believe it." Freddie looked at them with his head tilted. "But, dears…" he started, then looked around them, to where the crowd was still waiting to be good, like them, it was safe to go back in. Freddie shook his head. "Maybe this isn’t the time. Nevermind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian leant forward. "What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie waved them off, "No, it’s fine. No matter, darlings, ignore me." He then, to Roger's surprise, joined them on the floor and patted Brian on the arm, over the blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shared a look of confusion, but continued the wait in companionable silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun was well up when they were finally allowed back in to their flats. It had taken ages for the fire brigade to reset the state of the art fire alarm that the landlord had recently installed in all of their flats, and some other residents had started losing their patience, flagging down the fireman in the yellow jacket, slowing things down more. The three of them had been fine though, in their huddle by the post box.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie unlocked the door for them and led them inside. It was a complete parallel to how Roger had got into the flat earlier on, half drunk, wet, muddy with Brian angry at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie stopped in front of them, in the hall. "You go on through Bri, I just want to show Roger something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian was taken aback and looked between them before nodding uneasily. "Oh. Okay. I'll just go to the bathroom first…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie smiled at him. "Of course, Bri." And then he nodded to Roger to follow him through to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is there more to this story of you falling in the grass?" Freddie asked quietly, eyes flickering to the hallway, watching out for Brian as it he didn't want him to hear them. "Because, darling, you have to understand it sounds…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger's defensive hackles were up. "Sounds what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie smiled at him gently and it unsettled Roger but couldn't explain exactly why. "Like maybe something else happened."<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger scoffed, "I fucking fell on the grass, Freddie. Right on the grass verge by The King’s Head." He pointed in the general direction of the pub as if that grounded his point. "Brian’s got the mud on his trousers to prove it."<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, they heard the bathroom door open and get closed and then footfalls grow distant as Brian headed into Roger's room</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes I’m sure he does." Freddie said, pulling Roger's attention back to the conversation. Then he caught the time on the giant clock on the wall behind Freddie's head. Ten to 6 in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you happy now? Can I go to back to bed?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie sighed and pinched his nose. "Of course you can. You’ve had a busy night. And Brian too suppose."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger furrowed his eyebrow at Freddie and his words. "Right. Goodnight Freddie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Freddie smiled and followed Roger out the kitchen. "Goodnight darling. Goodnight Bri!" He then shouted through to Roger's room, as he parted for his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Er, goodnight Fred." Was Brian's hesitant reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger shook his head as he thought through the past 12 hours. Why did these weird things keep happening? He stopped short of going in his room, nipped to the cupboard where he kept the blanket and pulled it out, then took it into his room.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is everything alright?" Brian was sat up against the headboard, fidgeting with the duvet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roger unfolded the blanket and laid it out on top of the duvet, at the bottom of the bed on Brian's- on the side of the bed that Brian was sleeping on, then got in. It wasn't the first time he was going to bed when it was already morning, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but it felt a bit odd that Brian was still here, with the morning pouring in despite the curtains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don’t know how," Roger started, speaking quietly as he got into bed beside Brian, "but I think Freddie knows about me nearly getting into that fight."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brian looked at him, face scrunched in confusion. "How could he possibly know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don’t know. Sometimes he just knows things, it can be bloody weird."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm…"<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Anyway." Roger said, absolutely done for the night. "I’m bloody knackered, i’m going to sleep." He shuffled down on the bed and pulled the duvet up. He tried smiling at Brian, and knew it looked forced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm," Brian repeated, and it suddenly came to Roger that obviously the other man was just as tired and done in as he was. "Me too." He continued quietly, then he himself shuffled down and pulled the duvet and the blanket up over himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sleep well, Bri."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will as long as there's not another fire." Brian said dryly. Roger laughed but he fully agreed. "Sleep well, Rog"</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for sticking with this. I can't believe I've got so many kudos already, I really appreciate them and the comments!</p><p>Fair warning, next chapter is quite different!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. February, 1972</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Deaky's finaly here and he has some news! They have a good gig and then there's bed sharing, but this time it's a bit different.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so sorry for the delay. I've had a bad week+ with continued computer problems and then I wasn't well. Not the virus! But I am so sorry this took so long to polish up and get this out. I spent ages polishing this one up, and I'm still a bit wary about it, so thank you for your patience. </p><p>Please remember that I've taken some liberties with the real life time line, such as when real life events happened and people's birthdays, and because I can't find Veronica's Dad's name, I looked up the most common Polish names and gave him the most common one according to what I found.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roger wasn’t usually all that bothered about his height, but this was <em> awkward. </em> Brian was hunched over, which he did a lot but it still couldn’t have been comfortable, and Roger was still craning his neck to get a better look at the other man’s head, for the peanuts tangled up in his curls. “Mate, I love your curly hair but this would have been so much easier in the days where you straightened it.” </p><p>Brian sighed, ”I know.”</p><p>Roger lightly tapped him on the shoulder, “Don’t you dare, I was only joking.” Well, he wasn’t, but he also didn’t want Brian doing anything stupid. </p><p>“No, I know. It took too much time and energy anyway.”</p><p>“Exactly. And imagine what all those girls would think.” </p><p>“Yes. Well...” He didn’t need to see Brian’s face to see he’d gone all awkward again. This man, Roger thought, was ridiculous! </p><p>He felt further through the curls and found one more solid lump nestled in them. “Last one, I think.” He tried to get a hold of it but the way they were standing in this tiny shabby bathroom with hardly any light in, he had no chance unless he stood on the toilet and held a torch in his mouth to get a better view. He sighed in frustration, “It’s worked it’s way right in and formed a knot, somewhere near your neck.”</p><p>“Want me to turn around?” </p><p>Roger considered it for a few seconds and looked around the bathroom. Eventually he shook his head, “Can you kneel instead? Don’t laugh, I need the height advantage.”</p><p>Brian looked at Roger, suddenly unsure. “Urm… Okay.”</p><p>Kneeling down awkwardly on his long giraffe legs, Roger finally understood the hesitation. Yes, not the best of positions for them to be in, but, well, needs must. Roger got to work on that last peanut and silently cursed John Deacon for all he was worth. </p><p>Neither of them were aware of the almost silent gasp that came from the other side of the doorway, over the crappy prison-style divider that was this bathroom. </p><p><br/>
QQQQ</p><p>Freddie did a little bow at the small crowd before turning away and being ushered down the small backstage corridor by one of the venue’s staff. The last fan he’d signed a poster for had been a teenage girl, red bushy hair and thick tortoise shell glasses, wanting to go into theatre costume design when she left school, against her parent’s plan for her, and she’d gushed to him about their stage outfits. Feeling a kinship to her, he’d given her a bit more attention as he had the rest of the crowd and wrote her an extra little message on her poster, wishing her good luck on her exams and dreams in the future. </p><p>He loved their fans, but the bigger they got, the bigger the crowd, and he couldn't bear the idea of disappointing them, no matter how hard Paul tried to usher him away; but it did mean that by the time he’d get to their little shared dressing room at the end of the corridor, the other three would already be mostly changed by now.</p><p>Or so he thought. </p><p>Leaving Paul at the door to the his after gig duties, he entered the little dressing room, with Brian and Roger were nowhere to be seen, and John stood a few feet away from the bathroom door, looking, well, <em> off </em>. </p><p>“Deaky, Darling, what’s wrong?”</p><p>As if surprised out of a dream, Deaky’s whole demenour changed and he dropped his hand from where he’d held it against his mouth. “Freddie. Hi. No, nothing. I was just… thinking.”</p><p>Ah, thought Freddie, the crowd. Deaky still wasn’t the best with big crowds, and tonight had been a very good sized venue. “It’s alright, dear, you’ll get used to <em> them </em> in no time <em> , </em>and even bigger ones.” He walked towards John and patted him on the shoulder, “You just take whatever time you need to come down, and then get changed when you’re ready, okay? I’ll be back in two shakes, dear, I just need to go for a piss.” He pointed at the bathroom,  and got within a few steps of it when John seemed to realise what Freddie had said.</p><p>“Ah, no, Freddie, I’d wait just a bit!” John shouted, as if in a panic. </p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“Er…” John’s eyes flickered between Freddie and the open doorway. </p><p>Luckily at that moment, Brian came stomping out of the bathroom and pointed angrily at John. “You.” </p><p>Deaky actually took a step back, and looked more upset about the situation than Freddie thought was necessary. “I’m so sorry!”</p><p>“You should be!” </p><p>Freddie sighed and came to stand against John, “You’re not seriously angry about the peanuts, darling?”</p><p>Brian pointed behind him, “Roger has just spent ten minutes getting them all out for me!” </p><p>Roger, who was stood now on the dressing room side of the doorway, had his arms crossed and looked just a little bit annoyed. “It’s true. I didn’t mind, but that last one was a bugger. Right near the base of his neck, and you know that’s where it gets all knotted up!”</p><p>Freddie watched on as Deaky looked between Brian and Roger, looking taken aback with confusion. “Wait … Sorry?” </p><p>Brian dropped his hand, “Again, you should be.”</p><p>Deaky furrowed his brow, “You mean you were just- Roger was… You mean, you <em> weren’t </em>-” he shook his head a tiny amount and as if he realised his hand has been flittering uselessly about, closed it into a loose fist and held it close to his chest, awkwardly.</p><p>Freddie felt like he’d missed something, and looked between John and Brian to figure out what. John’s face was going inexplicably redder and Brian looked just as confused as he himself felt. When he looked at Roger, he was not in the least surprised to see the drummer was mostly ignoring the proceedings going on in front of him was instead eyeing up the peanut he held in his hand.</p><p>Taking control of the situation before things got even more weird, Freddie stepped further around, not so he was in the middle, he didn’t think Brian would escalate to physically assaulting the bassist, but just so he didn’t appear to be on either of their sides. “I think for Brian to take your apology seriously, Deaky, you need to form a full sentence at some point, dear.”</p><p>John seemed to be assessing the room, and he took in a calming breath. Looking Brian right in the eye, he conceded. “I’m sorry, Brian.”</p><p>Brian breathed calmly too, “Don’t do it again and you’re forgiven.”</p><p>Deaky nodded and turned to his changing area. Brian did the same.</p><p>“Wonderful, darlings, now if you don’t mind, I need to spend a penny.” He went through the strange doorway and just as he was passing the divider, heard Roger call through to him. </p><p>“Make it quick will you, Fred, the sooner we get changed the sooner we can go get some food. These peanuts taste like shit.”</p><p>“Oh yuck, Roger! They’ve been in my hair!” </p><p>If Deaky said anything under his breath, Freddie didn’t hear him, and clearly neither did the other two. </p><p> </p><p>QQQQ</p><p> </p><p>Roger plonked the four pints and packaged snacks from the bar onto the table and sat down next Freddie with a grin. It was the bar of the venue they'd played in, with exclusive access for only the acts, staff and VIP members past a certain time of night, so it was relatively quiet. The music was good, some easy rock he recognised, but not something he or John could dance to. That was a bit disappointing.</p><p>It made a nice change to the days when they'd have to haul the instruments to the van and </p><p>"And to think!" Roger started as if he was picking up a conversation from before they arrived, "We once struggled to fill the ealing student Union!" And then he rather sloppily gulped down half his drink.</p><p>"Steady on Rog!" Brian shouted, and took possession of his own pint as if it might go down the same way. Freddie couldn't blame him and silently pulled his own drink towards himself, then thought better of it than leaving it on the table and took a drink from it. </p><p>"And Deaky!!" Roger continued, as if Brian hadnt spoken. </p><p>"Yes, Roger?"</p><p>"We were in sync! And did you see those girls over to the right? They looked about ready to climb on the stage to pull your clothes off right there and then."</p><p>Freddie grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically: "Yes, darling, I spotted them as well!"</p><p>John shook his head, a light blush coated his cheeks. "Get to you, more like. I was probably just blocking their view." </p><p>Freddie shook his head. "No, darling, Roger's right. I half wondered whether I'd need to use my mic stand to keep them away." He rather seriously mimed a quickfire sword fight to punctuate his point. "Can't have our Deaky's virtue stolen by groupies!"</p><p>"Freddie!" Brian shouted with a surprised laugh.</p><p>"My virtue-!"</p><p>"I dunno," Roger said, cutting John off with a salacious grin, "Veronica might appreciate him gett-"</p><p>John cut him off with a steeled glare. "Roger, can you explain to me how painful 500 volts to the groin can be?"</p><p>"Er." His grin dropped and he looked at Freddie and Brian as he considered his answer closely. "Excruciating, I'd imagine."</p><p>"Keep talking and you won't have to imagine."</p><p>"Pass me a packet of crisps, please, Bri." </p><p>Freddie turned to look at Brian and sure enough, the guitarist had taken the packets of crisps under his protection. He was even more amused to see that there was no packets of peanuts in amongst them. Well, amused and relieved. </p><p>They settled down again, then John put his pint glass on the table and cleared his throat. "Er actually… I've got some news."</p><p>Freddie leaned in, "Really? And what might that be darling?"</p><p>John looked warily at them all, flickering his eyes between Freddie's and the other two. "Me and Ronnie are getting married."</p><p>Freddie felt his jaw drop. "What!?"</p><p>Roger's face wasn't doing much better than his own, Freddie thought. "You've only been together for six months."</p><p>John looked down into his pint, awkwardly. "I know."</p><p>"That's…" Brian started, then shook his head, the confusion on his face cleared to a bright, sincere smile. "Well, congratulations!" </p><p>Freddie wasn't quite there yet. "You're the baby of the band, how can you get married first?" </p><p>"Ronnie's not up the duff, is she Deaky?" Roger asked between mouthfuls. Brian's admonishment was drowned out from Freddie's ears by the way John's face darted back up to look at him, like he was a deer in headlights.</p><p>"Oh shit!" Roger's face dropped, "I meant that as a joke." </p><p>Freddie felt he had to say something, lest it go down hill from here. "Well." And then he wasn't quite sure how to continue.</p><p>Brian lent over to grasp John's shoulder. "Well, congratulations for that too." </p><p>Brian's sincere response and warm smile kicked Freddie into gear. "You work very quick, don’t you darling!" </p><p>John laughed, and it was a relief for Freddie to see him smile, but the smile didn't last long. He shook his head. "It’s really not funny, Freddie, her Dad was furious when she told him. I thought he was going to die of a heart attack, I thought he was going to punch me. He was going on about children out of wedlock and we’d already decided before telling him that we were going to get married but that really made it all real. And it’s Jakub whose decided on the date on account of, you know, when Ronnie’s due.." he trailed off awkwardly and then drunk more of his beer.</p><p>"I think that’s the most you’ve ever said in one go." Roger said.</p><p>"Rog." Brian said exasperatedly.</p><p>Ignoring Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum at his sides, Freddie held John's free hand in his own. "When is Ronnie due?"</p><p>"July."</p><p>Freddie nodded, "And when’s the wedding? We’ll have to plan bookings and such around it, but also, we need time to buy the gifts." Suddenly thoughts bombarded his mind. "OH think of the little baby shoes, Deaky!" They came in all sorts of colours more, didn't they? Oh, Freddie thought, ten steps ahead, they could design baby merchandise!! </p><p>"I’m afraid i’m thinking more of things like nappies and milk bottles, right now, Freddie." John said, bursting his bubble, "But, er, we need to get married as soon as possible, really. We were hoping for a registry office, small deal but… she wants a church wedding, so does Jakub, and her mum. They’re looking at early June, it's the earliest we can get with all the arrangements that need making."</p><p>Brian lent forward into Freddie's space. "We’ll do whatever we can with the bookings, Deaky. Is it… are you happy?"</p><p>John's soft, bright smile that lit his eyes up spoke for itself. "Yes."</p><p>"Thank fuck for that." Roger said, but he smiled brightly back, sincerely, and followed Brian's lead of giving John a contradictory congratulatory shoulder grasp in lieu of a hug.</p><p>"You know what?" Freddie said, addressing the other three, "Forget this dive, we need to really celebrate!" And he gulped the remainder of his own pint down.</p><p>Brian held his hand up. "Now steady on, Freddie."</p><p>"No, Freddie’s right!" Roger said, downing the rest of his pint too. "We’ve got a bit in the budget for some decent drinks. Deaky’s getting married <em> and </em> he’s having a baby!!  That’s something to celebrate!” </p><p>John held them off from leaving there and then. "<em> Ronnie’s </em> having the baby but… I appreciate the offer. It would be nice to celebrate, but erm…" he hesitated and looked warily between them again, suddenly serious. "Are you sure you'll still want me in the band once the baby’s here?"</p><p>Freddie felt as if the and was knocked out of him. "What?"</p><p>"Er why the fuck wouldn’t we?" Asked Roger, sitting heavily back down in his seat, ready for a fight even if that was with John to keep him with them.</p><p>"Darling," Freddie started, taking no nonsense, "We went through 700 bass players to find you, of course we still want you in the band after the baby arrives."</p><p>"It was just seven," Brian corrected, "But, yes, Freddie does have a point."</p><p>John tapped the side of his pint glass. "I’m going to be a dad, it’s not exactly the rock and roll image."</p><p>Freddie laughed, though not unkindly. "Darling, look at Brian, he’s an astrophysicist who likes clogs,  he’s not exactly the rock and roll image, and yet we haven’t kicked him out of the band have we?"</p><p>"Er. I founded the band!"</p><p>"You wear the type of jumpers I’d only wear to my Grandmother’s on a sunday, and I'm sure you'd wear them on stage of Freddie let you, Deaky." Roger said, "That’s not rock and roll either but, fuck we still want you in the fucking band! You’re the best bass player we've ever seen, and you’re our friend. We’d have to be complete shit heads to kick you out just because you’re having a baby."</p><p>"<em> Ronnie’s </em> having the baby," John repeated, "but... thank you. If you’re sure."</p><p>"Of fucking course we’re sure!" Freddie shouted, but with a smile so John knew it was heartfelt rather than with anger, "Now no more silly talk, let’s celebrate! You’re going to be a Dad, darling! Oh this is wonderful!!"<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>QQQQ</p><p> </p><p>As far as Brian could tell, the club was divided into three parts. The normal bar area, which was packed full of people, a high level walkway with seats where you could people watch and make fun of the people on the dancefloor, and then the dance floor itself. </p><p>Freddie and Deaky where somewhere in amongst the masses of people on the dancefloor, whilst he and Roger were in the quiet area watching over the balcony at the people down below. He’d lost of them both a while ago, and was not even tempted to go down and join them.</p><p>Suddenly Roger turned to face Brian better rather than people watch. "So. Deaky’s gonna be a Dad." </p><p>"Yeah, I know." He replied, smiling at the thought but unable to hide the surprise and awe he felt. </p><p>"Here’s me thinking Freddie would have to tell him about the birds and the bees and basic safe sex."</p><p>Brian snorted, "That ship has now sailed."</p><p>"Fuck, yeah. What about you?"</p><p>Brian blinked. “Er, well we learnt about it in school, Rog, so I’m all covered.”</p><p>The quick qup made Roger laugh, “Arsehole! I meant, do you think you wanna be a Dad?”</p><p>“Oh. Er.” He thought it through for a few seconds, weighing up pros and cons. “Maybe. Of course, i’d also need a wife.”</p><p>“Or maybe not…” Roger said, “I mean.” He pointed in the direction of the dance floor. “Case in point.”</p><p>Brian nodded. “Married with a kid on the way, all under the age of 25.”</p><p>Roger turned back around to look out towards the dance floor. “I don’t know how he’s not shitting himself, I’m older than him and I still feel like a kid myself.”</p><p>“That’s cos you are one.” Brian said, smirking. </p><p>Roger thwacked him with his right hand, not the one that was holding a mostly empty glass. “Fuck off! Who needs reminding to tie his shoe laces some mornings!”</p><p>Brian sighed. “I just get used to wearing the clogs. Anyway you’re one to talk. <em> Briii is this tie on straight </em> ? <em> Briii can you come change the lightbulb?? </em>”</p><p>Roger gasped, “Shut up, I don’t sound like that!” He said, his voice getting slightly higher with the indignancy. </p><p>“<em>Briiii</em>,” Brian continued, laughing, “<em>Can you come and help me? I’ve done something to the fridge and now all my foods melting!</em>”</p><p>“You wasn’t complaining when I gave you free food.”</p><p>Brian nodded in concession. “No that’s true. I just don’t think I’ll ever understand how you can be so smart and knowledgeable about so many things, but still didn’t know how to de-ice your freezer.”</p><p>Roger glared at him, but Brian had years to know it wasn’t really his angry glare. “This coming from <em> ‘I went all the way to a gig without my guitar’ </em>. What did you think we were there for, stargazing?”</p><p>“That would have been nice.” Brian said, humming and nodding at the idea. </p><p>There was a pause, then they looked at each other. Roger was the first to crack first and they both ended up laughing. </p><p>“Christ we’re a fucking useless pair.”</p><p>Brian agreed. “Hmm… What about you?” He said, wanting to pick up their previous conversation, “A wife, a mini Roger running around…”</p><p>Roger looked down, deep in thought. And Brian waited patiently to get his answer just as Roger had waited for him. “I don’t know,” Roger admitted quietly,  “I guess I never really thought about it.” Movement to Roger’s right caught his eye and the serious thought-filled expression on his face cleared immediately to grin at the intruders. ”Heyyyy! There’s the man of the hour!”</p><p>Deaky was…. Wobbly. And it wasn’t just because of his shoes. “Hi.” He barely managed to look straight at Roger, and he didn’t even acknowledge Brian’s presence at all.</p><p>Roger looked between John and Freddie, who had all but crawled up the stairs behind John. </p><p>“Christ Fred, how much did you pour down his throat?”</p><p>Brian came to stand closer to the swaying John. “You okay, Deaky?”</p><p>Freddie gasped, appalled. “Is HE okay? Did you not see us out there, darling, he’s exhausted me!” He stood up and gestured down to his feet. “My shoes have been worn thin and they may just send me a docket for their floor. I need to <em> sit down </em>.”</p><p>Roger snorted at the dramatics, but did at least move out of the way so that Freddie could take the low, lumpy, brown leather chair next to him.</p><p>“Freddie got tired.” John said at last. </p><p>Roger steadied John, who started listing listing to his side, and just stood there holding him in his arms. It always surprised Brian how gentle Roger could be with their youngest member, but he knew he shouldn’t be. The drummer had been gentle with him plenty of times, too. </p><p>“You’re looking a bit tired too, Deaky, dear.” Roger said. It didn’t even surprise Brian that the Freddie-esque term of endearment slipped out, they tended to at times like these. </p><p>John grinned and pointed. “That’s the kodva.. Kod...va. Dokva… Vad- the <em> drink </em> making my face droopy. I’ll get my second wing in a second.”</p><p>Holding back a laugh, Brian turned to Freddie, who was rubbing his feet though had not taken off his shoes. “Did you blow <em> all </em> of our allowance on getting Deaky blind drunk, Fred, or did you at least save some for food?” He hated to sound like the responsible one, but, well, sometimes he needed to sound like the responsible one. </p><p>Freddie rolled his eyes before looking up at Brian, and Brian moved a bit out of the way as Roger led John over to the wall to lean on it.  “I will have you know, darling, that some kind strangers paid for most of his drinks. Once we explained he was expecting a child, the shots came pouring in.”</p><p>“I’m having a BABY!” John suddenly exclaimed.  </p><p>Brian watched out the corner of his eye as Roger laughed. But then John turned around to Roger as if only noticing him and grasped him by both shoulders. “Roger!!” John shouted, and it wasn’t as if the area they were in was particularly noisy. “Will you be my godfather?”</p><p>Roger laughed again and shared a pointed look with Brian, before turning back to John. “Ask me again when you’re sober. Come on.”</p><p>He gently pulled him away from the wall and nodded to Brian and Freddie. Brian nodded back but waited for Freddie to get up first before following them down the stairs. </p><p>“You wanna dance?” John asked, grinning once again.</p><p>“Fuck no, I think it’s time we go to bed!”</p><p>“You can’t, I’m with Ronnie. I’m getting MARRIED.”</p><p>Brian honestly tried to not laugh at the reply. Freddie had no such reservations and had to stop on the stairs to laugh safely, otherwise he’d have gone tumbling down the stairs, bowling over Roger and John on the way. </p><p>“Fucking hell. We’re all sharing a room, remember? God help us.” He looked back to look at Brian and Freddie, and Brian mirrored his grimace. A drunk Deaky was an interesting Deaky... </p><p>Freddie gathered his wits and, at the bottom of the stairs went to his other side to prop him up. “Come on, Daddy Deacon, lean on both of us.”</p><p>“You’re not that much better off, Freddie.” Brian pointed out, wary of how the singer himself was wobbling along towards the exit of the club. </p><p>“Then you can take up the rear, dear.”</p><p>“The phrase is… nevermind.”</p><p> </p><p>Much to Brian’s relief, Freddie had been telling the truth when he said he’d hardly spent any of the money he had, and they were drunk out of the kindness of other people’s pockets, and so therefore between them they could get a taxi back to the hotel. He looked forward to the day he could just have a contract with a taxi firm and have the invoice sent to the record company, or be a millionnaire and not worry about such things as taxi fair at all, but alas, they were only just getting venues above 300 seats and were still paying out of pocket for a lot of things. </p><p>The hotel room was nice, in a <em> 3 star’s better than a B&amp;B </em> kind of way, but it did just have two beds they had to share between them. It was an improvement on the days of there only being one bed in a dingy bedroom of a B&amp;B, or above the pub they’d played in that night, but still. Brain thought a record deal got them a bit more than <em> this. </em></p><p>Brian closed the door behind them. Somehow they’d made it down the hallway in one piece but Freddie was being less of a help and more of a hindrance by this point. “How're we doing this then?” He asked as Freddie untangled himself from the three legged walking machine they’d become and headed straight into the ensuite bathroom. “You share with one, I share with the other?”</p><p>Roger propped John up against the wall and surveyed the room for himself. “Leave them in their own drunken nest on the floor and we get a bed each to ourselves?”</p><p>Brian knew they were just words. Roger would never do that to them even if Brian let him, and Freddie would never allow it even in a drunken stupor. </p><p>John heaved himself off from the wall. “Briiiiiiiiii.”</p><p>Brian thought it was safer he go to the bassist than the bassist go to him and trip over his own platform shoes. “Hello Deaky.”</p><p>Much like he’d done with Roger earlier, John grasped Brian’s shoulders and just held him in place. ”Bri.” He said, talking somewhere between his chin and his chest, “Brian. I love you.”</p><p>Roger scoffed and walked away, going to the ensuite bathroom to check on Freddie.</p><p>Brian looked down at the younger man, who wasn’t even all that much shorter than him, it was just the way he stood made him seem so. “I love you too Deaky.”</p><p>“I'm having a marriage and Ronnie's baby.”</p><p>Brian nodded and held in a laugh, “I know. Congratulations,” He said again, “I'm very happy for you. Ooft.” It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him as Deaky suddenly hugged him very tightly. They stood like that for a few minutes, just Deaky clinging on tightly, and then very slowly he pulled back. </p><p>“Listen.” He said, softly, and then stopped. “Listen.” Deaky said again, “Are you listening?”</p><p>“I'm listening.” Brian replied, and tried to gently manoeuvre them over to the bed. A man that drunk should not be standing up this much. </p><p>“I'm asking Roger to be my godfather because he was christened and went to church. And Freddie to be my first man because he can take the people.” Deaky held his arm again, “It's not because I don't love you.”</p><p>Brian felt blown away by his words. “I… Deaky.” He then gently pulled him down so that they were both sitting on the bed. </p><p>“You had a bad year last year.” </p><p>“I did.” Brain nodded in agreement. </p><p>“We don't want you to stress and get sick again.” Deaky looked up, and the words he was speaking and how he was saying them made him seem a bit more sober for the first time since leaving at the club, but his eyes were still glassy and unfocused. “I don't want you to worry, if you're not well again.”</p><p>Brian rubbed the arm of the hand that was holding his own arm. “I… that's very thoughtful of you Deaky.”</p><p>“Hmmm you're like the oldest brother I never had.” And then Deaky started listing forward.</p><p>“Thank you, I think. …” Suddenly John’s head landed on Brian’s chest with a light thud. “Deaky???” He tried to get a clearer view of Deaky’s face but it was obstructed by the angle. “Well… alright then.” Unable to do anything more at the moment, he rubbed at Deaky’s back in what he hoped was a comforting, calming gesture.</p><p>And that’s when Roger came out of the bathroom roughly guided Freddie out of the bathroom. “Fuck's sake Freddie you’re not that drunk. Oh hello.” Roger said, suddenly taking in the view of Brian with John. </p><p>“He fell asleep on me.” He explained, but knew it didn’t really need explaining. </p><p>Freddie grinned. “We can see that, dear.” And then he started to get himself ready for bed. </p><p>Brian looked to Roger for help. “Can I have a hand so we can lie down properly?”</p><p>Roger nodded. “I'll get his legs. Guess that means I'm sharing with Freddie.”</p><p>“Say that with any more lack of enthusiasm, Blondie, and I'll get a complex.”</p><p>“You are a complex.” He shot over his shoulder, then gently picked up John’s legs as Brian tried to drag him up towards the pillow end. It was not dignified. “Christ he's heavy.”</p><p>“It's all in his platform boots, darling.” Brian glanced over just in time to see Freddie, in just his underpants, get under the covers. </p><p>Roger lent close in to Brian. “I was worried he was going to say something else then.”</p><p>If anyone asked, Brian would blame the drink he had on the giggle he did in reply. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Long passed them all being settled down for bed, covered up, with an extra blanket taken out of the cupboard to throw over John, Brian was just dozing off when he felt a nudge at his side. </p><p>“Brian.” John whispered, just about heard above the dulcet tones of Freddie’s jackhammering snore. “Bri.”</p><p>Brian sighed and turned on his side to face the younger man. “Yes, Deaky?”</p><p>“If you’re up to it, will you sing at my wedding?”</p><p>For the second time that night, Brian was left rather speechless. “I… I’d be honoured to, Deaky.”</p><p>John’s eyes closed again and came to snuggling in close. Brian didn’t have the heart to nudge him away, not to mention he knew Roger would have <em> words </em>with him if he’d found out he’d denied the younger one a drunken cuddle. “Hmm… and when it's legal, I'll be your best man.”</p><p>Brian’s eyes flew open and his mouth opened in shock as he looked down at the bassist whose head was wedged between the pillows. “I… I don’t” He shook his head, breathed in, and then realised there was no point in denying it, especially to a person probably too drunk to remember this conversation in the morning. “Thank you, Deaky, that means a lot to me.”</p><p>“Hmmm” Deaky hummed sleepily again, and then patted Brian’s arm, “And Roger can have Freddie.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>John just snored in reply, gone to the land of sleep once again. </p><p>“Deaky?” Still no response, Brian calmed himself down and settled back properly against the pillow for more sleeping.</p><p>“But no more oral sex in the bathroom.”</p><p>Brian’s eyes flew open once again, “What?” He whisper shouted, but checking over John he found the bassist was truly asleep yet again, so he had no choice but to put it down to drunken ramblings in his sleep. “Fuck’s sake.” </p><p>He put his hand over his heart and waited for it to calm down before resting against the pillow, again. He felt his eyes droop closed and he pulled the duvet tighter around himself.  He was a bit worried that John would say something else just as he was falling asleep but after pre-emptively jostling himself awake twice and still the bassist slept soundly beside him, head still wedged in the gap between the pillows, he let sleep over take him.</p><p>'Drunken ramblings,' his last thought started, just on the very brink of sleep, 'That’s definitely what that was…'</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to Mayamaia for her recommendations! I have, on her advice, just changed the titles of the chapters to give you a better idea of the time frame involved here.<br/>And thank you to everyone who has commented and given me kudos. I really can't believe how well this fic has been recieved. </p><p>The next chapter will hopefully be next week, barring no further problems!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. May 1972</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brian's sick, possibly delerious, and oh no, there's more shirtless cuddling being interrupted by Freddie. This is a more serious chapter, but it's not based on the hep or ulcer situation, just mentioned.</p><p>Warning for talk of vomiting. It's not too graphic, it doesn't happen in the scene, but there's talk of the event of the vomiting.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last of the Fives, now!</p><p>This chapter is not beta-read. Any mistakes, please highlight them. Again, warning for talking of vomiting. I hope you enjoy it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brian couldn’t tell what had woken him up, but he knew he wished he hadn’t have been. Earlier that morning, he’d woken up feeling <em> off </em>and had called Freddie to tell him he wouldn’t make it to the meeting, that he’d woken up with an awful headache and a cold, and wanted to stay in bed. He did not get around to ringing Roger or John, because nausea had suddenly over taken him, cutting his conversation with Freddie short. </p><p>After bringing up all that was left in his stomach from the evening before, he’d dragged himself back to bed, sipped at the glass of water on his bedside table, and pulled the duvet over his head. Now he was awake again, he was hot and sweaty, yet shivery cold, his head ached something awful, his nose was all blocked and he didn’t dare breath in too harshly let it set off a coughing fit that might shake his lungs loose.</p><p>He slowly turned over on to his left side, snuggled back down into his pillow, and groaned in misery. He ignored the clock completely, because, Brian figured, what did time matter when your brain was being squashed by your own snot? </p><p>Then his bedroom door opened slowly.</p><p>“Bri?” A very familiar voice whispered, “You awake?”</p><p>He craned his head up and looked at Roger through sore, blurry eyes. At least the drummer was wearing dark colours - a black shirt with dark denim jeans - so it didn’t hurt more to look at him than it did. “Hmm?”</p><p>Roger crept further into the room, and closed the door behind him quietly. “Freddie told me you were sick. How’re you feeling?”</p><p>He tried to say “like shit warmed up, to be honest,” but all he managed was a very unmanly croaky squeak which hurt his own ears and throat, so he just shook his head and laid it back against the pillow. Roger looked surprisingly devastated. </p><p>“Oh Bri.” It looked like Roger was going to come near for a second, but thought better of it. “Have you eaten anything? Taken any paracetamol?”</p><p>Brian shook his head again and tried not to whine pathetically. </p><p>“Do you think you could eat something?”</p><p>That made Brian move his head quicker than he’d have liked. He squinted at Roger questionably. </p><p>Roger sighed, “I can make you some soup, Brian.”</p><p>Brian kept on looking. Past experiences proved that Roger, in fact, could not make soup and it was a trial he never wished to repeat. </p><p>Roger rolled his eyes. “A cup-a-soup.”</p><p>Brian reconsidered his stance: Roger was quite good at making tea… “Yeah okay,” he barely managed to whisper, and even that felt like the flesh of his throat was being grated against itself. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He swallowed down some dry, sharp saliva and turned on to his back, readying himself for getting upright. </p><p>Roger’s hand came to rest on the duvet, gently keeping Brian in place. “No no, you stay there. I’ll bring it in here for you.”</p><p>Brian imagined some nightmare scenarios that could result from Roger bringing soup up seventeen domestic stairs.  “You sure?” He said, but it came out as a barely there croak and mime. </p><p>Roger smiled brightly at him. “Course I am! I’ll be back in a sec, you just stay there.” He patted the duvet before turning, then opened the door and left the room.</p><p>Brian groaned pathetically again and tried to shuffle himself up whilst keeping the duvet up over him. Everything ached and Brian was beginning to suspect that might not have been just a simple cold as he’d told Freddie. Maybe the vomiting should have been his first clue. He turned to look at the clock and was surprised to see it was almost 2 o’clock in the afternoon, which meant that after talking to Freddie he’d managed another three hours. Not that it had been undisturbed. </p><p>Once he was as sat up as he could bare it, he grabbed a tissue from the box he had in his bedside table and blew his nose. “Ugh.” It was enough to make him want to lie back down and put the duvet over his head again. Human bodies were disgusting, and he was severely wishing he could leave his behind for a few days and go live in a jar. He was sure Roger could handle looking after him, like a pet fish of some sort. The drummer had a cat and the cat looked happy and healthy enough. If Roger put him at the right windowsill overnight, he’d even have a nice view of the stars overnight, and he wouldn't need to sleep because he wouldn’t be in a body... </p><p>Brian stopped his thoughts in their tracks and put his hand against his head to check for a temperature, because that was the only reason he could come up with for his descension into delirium. Living in a <em> jar </em> , being looked after by <em> Roger </em> , on <em> Roger’s windowsill </em>? But, his hand felt hot against his head, his head felt hot and sweaty against his hand, his arm ached from the position, and his back ached in general, so he gave it up as a lost cause. </p><p>He heard the tell tale foot steps of Roger coming back down the hallway and the man in question came in, one mug in one hand, another mug in another, the remainder of his loaf of bread carried with the plastic wrap twisted between Roger’s fingers, and under his left arm he had what looked like a packet of ginger biscuits that Brian had bought the last time he’d been shopping. </p><p>Roger nudged the door closed behind him and placed the mug on Brian’s bedside table next to the clock. “It’s boiling hot, so I’ll put that here, and here’s some bread to dip.” He dropped the half empty packet of bread onto the bed and sat down in the desk chair from the desk, near the end of the bed and placed his own mug on the table. Given the biscuits, Brian assumed he was having a cup of tea. He couldn’t smell a damned thing.</p><p>He was amazed at Roger’s efficiency, though he should know by now he should never underestimate his wonderful, kind hearted, thoughtful friend. “Thank you,” he croak whispered. </p><p>Roger smiled at him. “It’s alright.”</p><p>Brain watched as Roger got a better hold of the packet of ginger biscuits and opened the packet, pulling one out. Brian held the back of his hand to his own cup, but as predicted, it was too hot, so he left it where it was and watched Roger as he unceremoniously dunked the ginger biscuit into the cup.  </p><p>Brian swallowed painfully again. “You shouldn’t be here too long, you might catch this.” Though croaky, the bare bones of the words made it out of his throat just enough for the drummer to know what he said. </p><p>Roger shook his head, “Nah, if I was going to catch it, i’d have already caught it from wherever you caught it.”</p><p>Brian wasn’t so sure, but they had been in each other’s company for almost all of the past four days, so maybe he was right. “You’re the biologist.”</p><p>Roger nodded with a smile. “Exactly. I went to med school, I know these things!”</p><p>Brian would have rolled his eyes if it hadn’t have hurt, so he tried speaking again. “You drop-” but a horrible, nasty coughing fit overtook him before he could finish the sentence. The one good news was so far, at least the cough was dry, so it was unlikely to be a chest infection and he didn’t have to spit nasty horrible mucus out into a tissue.</p><p>“Oh Bri.” Roger said sadly. “Have you got any water?”</p><p>Brian looked to his bedside table and realised he did not have water. He’d drunk the last of the glass of water that he’d he’d left on his bedside table over night, after his vomiting session earlier that day and had vague memories of leaving it on a table, but it wasn’t on his bedside table and it wasn’t on the desk, and all he can remember after that is feeling absolutely washed out and getting in to bed. He shook his head pathetically. </p><p><em> Christ, </em> he thought, <em> he was nearly twenty seven and absolutely useless when sick. He’d have thought after all that had happened the year before he’d have got better at it, not worse! </em></p><p>“I’ll go get you some.” Roger placed the packet of biscuits on the desk chair and, after giving him another sympathetic pat on the arm, left the room again. And then he popped back in. “There’s an empty glass out here, I’ll go and give it a rinse in the kitchen.”</p><p>Ah. He’d put it on the telephone table and then the feeling of being washed out overcame him, and got in to bed. Now he could remember. Vaguely. </p><p>Roger went down the hallway to the kitchen and came back in faster than Brian was expecting him to, especially with his footfalls and his much beloved trainers. Even with the carpeting, the sound could echo. </p><p>“Sip that, slowly.” Roger said, handing the glass over. </p><p>Brain nodded, took a few sips and grimaced as the cold water went down his very sore, very dry throat. He then placed the cool class against his head. It didn’t do much to help, and the pressure of the glass was too much for his head to handle. He grimaced, then had to swallow painfully again, so brought the glass down to his lips and had another few mouthfuls. The texture was horrible, leaving Brian feeling more miserable by the second. <em> How could water make things feel worse? </em></p><p>He felt the mug of soup again with the back of his hand but it was still too hot, so he left it where it was. He put the glass of water on the bedside table too, worried it would get warm from being held in his hands. </p><p>He relaxed back against the headboard awkwardly as Roger nattered on about that morning, from the meeting to arguing with Freddie, who’d taken their meeting being cut short as a sign it was the perfect time to go hunting for new stage outfits. </p><p>“I asked him, ‘and with what money?’ and he said, ‘oh darling, she owes me a favour.’ I’ve seen her stuff, Bri, the favour to pound exchange rate is not in his favour.” </p><p>Brian tried to smile, and knew it didn’t quite look right, especially when Roger tilted his head and frowned at him. Roger then picked up the packet of ginger biscuits and held it out for Brian to take one. He shook his head in refusal, the soup was going to be enough of a challenge. </p><p>Roger hummed softly in disappointed, but ate the biscuit himself. </p><p>On a third touch of the mug, Brian found the soup was cooled down enough for him to have it. It was no surprise to him when he saw it that it was tomato, it was the only box he’d bought recently, but with a blocked nose and heavy head, he couldn’t smell it and it had absolutely no taste to it. He kept to just sipping it, with smaller mouthfuls being easier to swallow than bigger ones on his poor tortured throat. He picked up the loaf from by his knee, took a slice of bread out of the packet, tore a bit away with his hands and delicately dunked it into the soup. It took a while, but swapping between sipping and dipping bread, with the continual commentary from Roger washing over him, he did manage to eat the whole cup.</p><p>He placed the cup back onto the bedside table and rested his head against the headboard, trying to breathe calmly through his blocked nose, but ended up needing to breathe through his mouth instead. Roger offered him another biscuit, but Brian declined with a grimace and a shake of the hand. </p><p>Roger shrugged and then, much to Brian’s surprise, lent over to feel his forehead with the back of his hand, much like he’d done himself before. “You’ve got a temperature. ‘You got paracetamol nearby or do you want me to get it for you?”</p><p>Brian shook his head again, and pulled out a bottle of paracetamol from the drawer of his bedside table. He poured two out, replaced the cap, put that on the bedside table as well, and took the them with a sip of the water. Every movement felt like he was weighed down with lead. </p><p>“Do you want anything else to eat?” Roger asked. </p><p>He shook his head. “Feel a bit sick now, actually. “ He croaked in reply. The soup had done a small amount of good to ease the pain and dryness in his throat, it did not do much good for his stomach. </p><p>Roger tutted and hummed in disappointment and looked at him consideringly. It made Brian want to turn over and face the wall. “Do you want me to go get something to throw up in?”</p><p>Brian shook his head. That was the last thing he wanted!</p><p>Roger hummed again. “Why don’t you try and sleep a bit more?”</p><p>Brian shook his head but then a deep, wracking dry cough shook through him. He coughed into the tissue. Roger stood up again and came to stand by the bed. Brian thought it was to help him should he suddenly collapse of lack of oxygen, but then Roger started rubbing his back. “Sorry,” he croaked out. </p><p>Roger removed his hand and looked at Brian closely again. He had his thinking face on, which could ultimately lead to something genius, or something terrible. ”Be right back.” He eventually said, and once again left the room.</p><p>Brian was too worn out and his throat still hurt too much to question him on what he was going to do, and Roger knew his way around the house to really be concerned he’d wreak havoc. Very shortly after he left, Roger came back, holding all of the pillows from the spare room in his arms. </p><p>“Why does your guest room bed have nicer pillows than you do?”</p><p>“They’re new,” he nodded at the pillows in Roger’s arms, then nodded to the pillow to his right. “These are older.” </p><p>“Oh Brian,” Roger tutted and sighed in exasperation. “Sit up a second.”</p><p>“Why?” he asked, mostly mouthing the word.</p><p>“So I can put these behind you and prop you up.” Brian followed the instructions and was dutifully propped up. “There. Now you can sleep sitting up a bit. I’ll clear these away, okay?”</p><p>Roger picked up the mugs, and the half eaten packet of ginger biscuits and left the room. Brain closed his eyes and was just barely aware of the pottering around in the kitchen. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Roger was crouching by the bed, putting down a familiar yet unused garish orange ceramic bowl.</p><p>Brian tried speaking through the worsening burning sensation in his throat. “What’s with…?” he pointed to the bowl in lieu of actually finishing the sentence. </p><p>“I couldn’t find anything else big enough incase you throw up.”</p><p>Brian whined and grimaced. “That was off Freddie.” he whisper croaked. </p><p>Roger shrugged, “He won’t mind.”</p><p> “It was from Calif-” Suddenly he got the sensation he was about to sneeze and almost immediately after, sneezed right into his own hand, the one that was not holding the tissue. He grimaced again. <em> Disgusting. </em>Then he sneezed again. And again. And again. And then started coughing. Roger had grabbed the box of tissues from the bedside table and held them out to Brian, then picked up the waste paper basket underneath the desk for Brian to drop them into. Once that was over, Brian whined just for good measure. He wasn’t usually concerned with how he looked, but this was so very much not rock and roll. </p><p><em> What must Roger think? </em> Brian thought. <em> Even when he has a cold he manages to make it look sexy. Girls flock to him! And he was never this sick. </em>Brian knew he was thinking childishly but he couldn’t help it. He didn't know if he hated himself or Roger more for this imbalanced state of their health.</p><p>But when he looked up and found Roger was smiling wryly at him, he remembered he didn't hate Roger at all. </p><p>“That’s what you get for arguing with me. Now lay back again, and go back to sleep.”</p><p>Defeated, he did as he was told, and pulled the duvet back up against his shoulder. “Thought you’d have gone.” He croaked, but had his eyes closed. </p><p>“Without saying goodbye? Never.”</p><p>He heard shuffling by the bedside table, and thought Roger was doing some last minute pottering before he was going to leave, but then he felt a dip at the bottom of the bed.</p><p>He cracked his eyes open and squinted as he watched his friend, now shoeless, clamber onto the bed from the foot end in a very awkward fashion, with a paperback novel in his hand.  </p><p>“What are you doing?” he managed to grind out, but the high pitch of surprise didn’t make it past his vocal box so the words were barely formed as sound. </p><p>Roger, once he made it to the head end to be beside, relaxed back against the headboard and looked at the title of the book in his hand. “Err… i’m gonna read this. <em> The Halloween Tree, </em>” he read out loud, “Sounds like a children’s story.” </p><p>Brian didn’t have the energy to argue with Roger about what constitutes as a children’s book right at that moment. He did, however, have the energy to argue against Roger being <em> in his bed </em>. He started off by shaking his head. </p><p>“Roger, you can’t-” He tried to say, frustrated at the state of his throat and the pain trying to talk caused.</p><p>“Don't worry,” Roger replied breezily, “I'll keep your bookmark in.”</p><p>“I meant,” Brian started again, really trying to make his voice come out stronger, “You’ll get sick.”</p><p>“What did I say before? If I was going to get it, I’d have already caught it. It’s fine.” He said, as if distracted by the copyright information on the front page of the book. </p><p>Brian sighed and went for 100% honesty instead. “Roger, i’m sick and i’m disgustingly sweaty and I might throw up. It’s…”</p><p>“It’s fine.” Roger said, looking straight at him. “I don’t mind, Bri.”</p><p>Brian swallowed painfully again and pointed to himself insistently. "I mind, Roger." He just managed to mouth, why no sound coming out and energy draining again.</p><p>"Well… You shouldn't. With all we've been through, a bit of flu shouldn't bother us. It's just what you do, for friends. You know? So just… lay back and go back to sleep, okay? You’ll feel better for it." Roger smiled at him kindly again and it left Brian with not much option but to go along with it. So he rested back and closed his eyes.</p><p>That was the problem with Roger, Brian thought. His kindness got in the way of the barriers of propriety his father instilled within him. And sometimes, like today, it was hard to keep them in place. Friends didn't usually nurse each other through flu, did they? Not even his last girlfriend, Chrissie, wanted him around when she was sick and she didn't do much more but drop off some soup for him at his student flat, to heat up himself, when he had it during their short relationship. Roger had come by, made him soup, stayed whilst he eat it and was now in his bed...</p><p>His mind was wandering down into dangerous territory, he knew, and after what John had said to him the other month, it was something that kept popping out from the very back of his mind at the most inconvenient moments. Like now. He fought them back in to place. John's drunken ramblings were just that. Ramblings.</p><p>He shuffled a bit down the bed, but mostly tried to keep his head upright, feeling the soup heavy in his stomach and his nose on the verge of dripping and wanting to avoid all possibilities with either.</p><p><br/>
"You comfortable?" Roger murmured, leaning over a bit into Brian’s space. </p><p>Brian shrugged, but kept his eyes closed. As tired as he was, he was starting to severely regret the tomato soup and he wasn't sure sleeping was going to be the best idea...</p><p><br/>
QQQQ</p><p><br/>
Freddie wasn't really expecting an answer when he knocked, ever so gently, on Brian's front door in the early evening, but the lack of an answer disappointed him anyway. It was a sign that Brian was indeed not well. Trying not to worry too much, he fished out the spare he'd been trusted with and let himself in, quietly.</p><p>Upon closing the door, just as quietly, behind himself, he saw a suspiciously familiar jacket on one of the coat hooks Brian had fitted on the wall. But, there were no other signs of Roger, or even Brian, being out in the general areas of the flat so he went to Brian's bedroom door and knocked on that, also very quietly.</p><p>He opened the door just a crack so he could pop his head around and whisper through without disturbing the poor, sick man too much. "Bri, darling are you awake?"</p><p>As he opened the door just a bit more and looked to the bed, first he made out the familiar curls obstructing the face of his sleeping friend, all squished up at the headboard, and then as he realised what he was looking at didn't quite make sense, an equally familiar blonde head came into focus. The familiar blonde was topless, judging from the bare shoulder he could see on the other side of Brian.</p><p>"Freddie?" Roger whispered, from where he was pinned at the down by Brian's upper torso. </p><p>"Roger!?" He whisper shouted back. He had the strongest feeling of deja vous, as this was virtually the same sight that he met that time two years ago. <em> This was fucking ridiculous! </em></p><p>"What are you doing here?" They asked each other at the same time.</p><p>Roger scowled at him and with the thunderous expression of a military man, pointed him out of the room. Freddie didn't comply straight away, instead he watched on as Roger gently extracted himself from under Brian's head and tried his hardest not to wake up the other man as he shuffled awkwardly out the bottom of the bed. Roger noticed he hadn't left yet and waved and pointed him out of the room again. This time Freddie did just about comply, but as he stepped out he registered the fruit bowl he’d bought Brian on the floor. That’s… romantic, Freddie thought.</p><p>He heard Brian make a questioning hum.</p><p>"It’s alright Bri, just going to the bathroom, go back to sleep."</p><p>Brian's reply was either nonverbal or none existent, because Freddie didn't hear one, and then Roger was stood at the doorway of Brian's bedroom. Freddie stepped back to let him out and Roger closed the door softly behind himself.</p><p>Roger nodded him to the kitchen, and then once there, stood at the little alcove in the furthest part of the kitchen, far away from Brian's bedroom door.</p><p>"So?" Roger asked abruptly.</p><p>Freddie sat down on one of the dining room chairs and turned in it to face Roger. "Yes hello Roger. It's funny, I wasn’t expecting to see you here."</p><p>"I could say the same to you." Which was a fair point. He never mentioned this part of his plans for the day after shopping, but he hadn't been sure on whether to or not.</p><p>"I came to check up on Brian." </p><p>"So did I." Roger said, and crossed his arms defensively.</p><p>Freddie took in the drummer's state of shirtlessness. "Yes it looks like you’ve been doing a great job… checking up on him." </p><p>Did they think he was an idiot!?</p><p>Mistaking Freddie's sarcasm for the wrong type of disbelief, Roger snapped. "I have been!" He whisper shouted, with a wine in his voice. "I made him some soup for dinner, and got him bread to dip, and then I cleaned everything up when he threw it back up, all over himself and me an hour later. He hardly got any in the sick bowl. And i wrestled with a new duvet cover!"</p><p><em> Ah </em>. That stopped Freddie in his tracks. The distress in Roger's voice was genuine, he could tell these things easily. So, it hadn't been the afternoon off he was imagining for the two of them. Freddie found the worry he'd manage to stave off that morning was coming right back, just as strongly. </p><p>"Oh no, the poor dear." Freddie murmured. "I'll take it that was him not feeling well rather than a testament of your cooking, darling."</p><p>"Fuck off." Roger said, "Itwasjustacuppasoup."</p><p>"There you see, not even you can fuck up a cup a soup." He tried his hardest not to chuckle. This sounded serious. </p><p>"Thanks." Roger said, and then satisfied with the placation, dropped his arms. “He threw up the paracetamol too. It’s not the best thing to do, I know, but I got him to take two more, because they didn’t really look digested at all.”</p><p>“Well…” Freddie started, trying not to be disgusted with that information and also not knowing which way to take this conversation now. “He looked quite comfortable when I came in just then, at least.” he settled on. </p><p>Roger nodded. “Yeah. He’s exhausted. God it was awful.” Roger crumpled a bit in on himself and then came to join Freddie at the dining table. “One second he was asleep, then suddenly he woke up and threw up everywhere. He misjudged where the side of the bed was, because, like I said, he mostly missed the bowl. And you know Brian, he can be a bit prickly about these things so helping him afterwards was a bit of a challenge. And if I hadn’t have known it was tomato soup he’d brought up...” Roger looked up at the ceiling and </p><p>A cold wave of worry came over Freddie. “He said it was just a cold.”</p><p>Roger shrugged. “It’s more likely the flu.”</p><p>“It’s definitely not… not like last year?”</p><p>“No. Like the hep and the ulcer?” Roger asked, “No. No it’s just the flu. He’s coughing and sneezing, headache, body aches. Everything.”</p><p>“That sounds bad enough. Should we take him to the hospital?”  </p><p>“Only if his temperature goes up further or he can’t keep anything down for 48 hours.”</p><p>Freddie fiddled with the sleeve of his own top. “He didn’t sound so bad on the phone this morning. Although he did cut the conversation short, now I think about it.”</p><p>Roger shrugged again. “Flu can be like that, you know this.”</p><p>Freddie looked at Roger, trying to take him in with an objective and more medical view. “And you’re feeling alright? What if you get sick too, darling?”</p><p>“Like I told Brian,” Roger said, airily, “If I was going to catch it, I already would have caught it. We’ve been everywhere together the past four days.”</p><p>Freddie nodded. Wasn’t <em> that </em>true? He thought through his next words carefully. “You know, darling, I think it’s time we talked about this properly, don’ you?”</p><p>Roger looked at him in confusion. “Talk about what?”</p><p>“Well,” Freddie said, “Let’s start with this, dear. Why are you shirtless? Why were you in bed with Brian when I came in just now?”</p><p>Roger sighed as if put upon. “I told you. When he threw up, he threw up on the duvet and it caught me too. I put my shirt in the bath with the duvet cover straight away, otherwise he was going to get up and try and wash it himself. And… don’t say it like that.” Interestingly, Freddie watched on as a pink flush spread across Roger’s face.</p><p>Freddie quirked an eyebrow at him and fought down a smile. “Say it like what?”</p><p>“I wasn’t <em> in bed </em> with Brian. I was just there….”</p><p>“In bed with Brian.” Freddie finished for him. “You looked very cosy… again.”</p><p>Roger rolled his eyes. “He’s sick.”</p><p>“I’ve been sick a few times, dear, you’ve never got in to bed with me.”</p><p>Roger looked shocked and affronted. “I’ve got in to bed with you plenty of times!” As if realising what he’d said, and how loud he’d said it, he groaned and went to put his hands on his face. As if thinking better of it, he put his hands on the table and looked up at the ceiling instead. “Don’t turn this into something it isn’t, <em> please, </em> Freddie. He has the flu, I’m just looking after him.”</p><p>“You were cuddling.” <em>Shirtless</em>, <em>again, </em>Freddie wanted to add but didn’t. He also didn’t make a point of saying friends don’t normally look after each other this closely, but he knew things were a bit different between the four of them. They spat in the face of ideas of what male friends should or shouldn’t do together. </p><p>And Freddie did know if he himself was worried about Brian being sick, especially after Brian’s hospitalisation the previous year, then Roger must have been as well. But this still felt more like a reaction to that, this felt more <em> close </em> to Freddie. It felt different.</p><p>“Even if we were, so what? That’s never been a problem before!” Roger was getting defensive and this conversation was not going the way Freddie wanted it to. </p><p>“I’m just saying, dear, you’re quite dedicated to him in a way that’s very… Husbandly.”</p><p>“Fuck off.” Roger scoffed. </p><p>Freddie sighed. “I’m just saying,” he repeated, “You two are very close, and it would be okay if it was… like <em> that. </em>You can’t deny you’re like an old married couple, after all, darling, and that’s wonderful, but maybe there’s a reason for that.”</p><p>Roger scoffed. “We are <em> not </em> . I’m not- <em> He </em> isn’t- So… shut up.”</p><p>Freddie squinted at the wording, but ultimately shrugged. He knew he wasn’t going to get further with this, at least not today. “Okay,” he said, breezily, as if the matter was being blown away. “If that’s how you want it, dear, I’ll drop the subject. Never to be broached again.” He took a calming breath and changed the subject. “How long do you think he’ll be sick for?”</p><p>Roger blew air out of his cheeks, sighing as if relieved at the change of topic. “Flu generally lasts between three and fourteen days.”</p><p>“And are you going to be here the whole time, darling, or just popping in and out?” Roger looked at him sharply, picking up on an implication he hadn’t completely meant to make. Freddie put his hands up as if in surrender. “I just meant, dear, that I can pop by as well. I did after all, pop in today with the implicit plan to check up on him. Poor dear sick again, after everything he went through last year. I was worried. But I wouldn’t want to overcrowd him.”</p><p>Roger’s face softened. “Oh. No, I- I was just going to pop in once a day, make sure he was eating, and that.”</p><p>“Do either of you need anything now, dear? I could go down to the shops, maybe come back with something to cheer him up. It’ll be like old times at the flat!”</p><p>Roger looked around Brian’s sparse kitchen, and looked questioning at the cupboard in the corner where he kept his dry and tinned food. “I was thinking of a plainer Cup-a-Soup. Maybe tomato was too harsh on his stomach. Maybe… he won’t eat chicken, erm…”</p><p>“Plain toast might be better, dear.” Freddie said, then eyed the almost empty fruit bowl on the dining table. “Sliced banana on top, maybe, for a bit of nutrition. Banana by itself if his throat’s sore.”</p><p>Roger nodded. “Yeah, he sounds like he’s swallowed glass. That’s a good idea, thanks Freddie. We- <em> He </em> shouldn’t need anything for a few days. I can’t imagine he’ll be up for anything heavy for a few days.”</p><p>“Well, all right.” Freddie said, then stood up. “I’ll leave him in your capable hands, then dear. You’ll ring me if anything changes, won’t you darling?”</p><p>“Nothing’s going to change, I promise. He’ll be all better by next week. Then you’ll have your Brimi back.“</p><p>“Okay. And…” Freddie paused, weighing up the risk of saying the next words… “If there’s anything else… well you know where to find me.”“Thank you, Freddie.” Roger said, insistent in his tone to shut him up, and then walked him to the door. “Get home safe.”</p><p>“You too darling.” Freddie said, but a little voice in his head continued.<em> ‘If you ever leave, you stupid doe-eyed bastard. Kidding nobody but yourself, dear.  </em></p><p>And then, just as he stepped out of the door to leave, a thought came to him. “Wait a second!” He said, whirling back around on to Roger. “Why was my orange fruit bowl on the floor if he uses the glass one in the kitchen?”</p><p>Roger looked at him like he’d announced he found two plus two too difficult to figure out. “Sick bowl.”</p><p>Freddie gasped in horror. “That was from california, you bastard!”</p><p>Roger laughed. “It was from a tacky street stall in california, Freddie. It cost you less than two dollars!”</p><p>Freddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “It’s not about the cost, it’s about the sentiment!” </p><p>Roger rolled his eyes and tutted at him. “Keep your voice down, Freddie, you’ll wake up Brian.”</p><p>Brian. Of course. Freddie sighed and let it go. But he’d be having words with the guitarist when he was all better. “Fine. Tell him I dropped by, won’t you, dear?”</p><p>Roger nodded. “Of course I will Freddie.”</p><p>“Alright then,” He turned at the step and waved goodbye. “Bye dear!”</p><p>“Bye Freddie,” Roger said, and then closed the door on him.</p><p>Call him an old fool, but there was just something about Roger closing Brian’s door, and the idea of Roger pottering around Brian’s flat as if he belonged there, not to mention getting back in to bed with someone who was sick, who had just thrown up on them, that warmed Freddie up in a way he couldn’t explain. He wasn’t kidding when he called them an old married couple...</p><p>But he had to file those thoughts in the back of his mind. If Roger was determined not to see the wood for the trees, well, Freddie couldn’t make him. <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>QQQQ</p><p>Back in Brian’s bedroom, Roger looked down at his shirtless self and then to a peacefully sleeping Brian on the bed. He sighed and got one of Brian’s looser shirts from out of the wardrobe. </p><p>He was glad Freddie hadn’t come around to drag Brian out of his sick bed; Not that he really thought the singer had come for that when he saw him pop his head through the doorway, he obviously did care and worry about Brian, but sometimes he could be single minded in his bid for rehearsing and perfection, and things like sick days got lost along the way. </p><p>But Roger hadn't needed Freddie to broach <em> that </em> conversation. He knew what this could look like! And he’d never cared before, but, well, <em> Brian </em> might… if <em> Brian </em> thought the same as Freddie...</p><p>He sighed again and picked up the book from where he’d left it at the end of Brian’s bed, then sat in the desk chair, waiting for Brian to wake up and eat and drink a bit more before he left. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So it looks like Freddie's learnt not to scream at the sight of his friends cuddling! ;)</p><p>Now, the next chapter is a bit more hefty, so with the editing it needs, it might not be up next Friday but it won't be too long after it isn't. </p><p>Thank you again for all the comments and kudos!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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